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LOS  ANGELES 


I 


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SPEECHES 

THEIR     PREPARATION 
AND  THEIR  DELIVERY 


Speeches 

Their  Preparation  and  Their  Delivery 


By 

Alexander  Burton 

Author  of  "Public  Speaking  Made  Easy,"  etc.,  etc. 


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*     .'  .'.  '  '.'  '.'i  '•     ' 


New  York 
Edward  J.  Clode 


COPYRIGHT,      I92I,      1922,     BY 
EDWARD    J  .    CLODE 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


PKINTED  m  THE   UNITED   STATES  OS  AMERICA 


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<L/fffer  Dinner  Speeches 

Hd)^  to  (i^lffake  'Them 

Chapter  I 
INTRODUCrORT 

N  the  Ingoldsby  Legends,  there  is  a 
description  of  the  monks,  belonging  to 
a  certain  order.     Thus: 


'  Ne'er  suffered  to  speak,  think  only  in  Greek, 
ij  "  And  subsist  as  the  bears  do  by  sucking  their  paws." 

'        By  contrary,  this  quotation  bears  on  the 

V 

t  art   of  after-dinner   speaking.     By   contrary 

"^^  indeed!    For  the  company  with  which  we 

v^  are  concerned  is  by  no  means  silent,  accord- 

t  ing  to  the  discipline  for  the  monks,  nor  does 

^  it  do  its  thinking  in  Greek.     Rather,  it  does 

^'  little   thinking   in   any   language  —  as   little 

"^  as  possible,  and  instead  of  the    melancholy 

[7] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

travesty  of  eating  by  which  monks  and 
bears  seek  to  assuage  the  pangs  of  fasting,  our 
fortunate  assembly  is  filled  to  repletion  with 
the  best  of  food. 

The  final  statement  is  of  fundamental 
importance  in  our  consideration  of  post- 
prandial oratory.  The  characteristic  quality 
of  such  oratory  is  determined  by  the  mood  of 
those  listening  to  the  speaker,  and  the  mood 
itself  is  the  product  of  the  meal.  When 
persons  have  dined  well,  the  activities  of 
digestion  make  a  special  demand  on  the  blood 
supply.  In  consequence,  less  blood  circulates 
in  the  brain,  and  intellectual  energy  di- 
minishes. The  whole  result  is  a  sense  of  well- 
being,  in  which  mental  effort  would  prove 
irksome,  but  which  is  agreeably  disposed 
toward  the  lighter  forms  of  entertainment. 

It  is,  then,  for  very  positive  and  material 
reasons  that  the  art  of  after-dinner  speaking 
must  be  considered  quite  apart  from  oratory 
in  general.  The  orator  for  more  serious  oc- 
casions must  depend  primarily  on  an  in- 
tellectual achievement,  if  he  is  to  make  any 

[8] 


INTRODUCTORY 

success  worth  while.  He  must  present  an 
orderly  discourse,  justified  by  sound  reason- 
ing. Without  this  logical  basis  of  argument, 
his  persuasive  skill  and  verbal  eloquence  are 
barren  things.  The  after-dinner  speaker, 
however,  is  confronted  with  a  wholly  different 
task.  It  may  be  asserted,  in  fact,  that  his 
entire  duty  is  to  entertain.  The  hour  fol- 
lowing on  a  feast  is  not  a  period  for  instruction 
or  edification:  it  is  a  period  for  enjoyment, 
pure  and  simple.  Let  the  emphasis  be  on 
that  word  *' simple."  Simplicity  must  be 
the  keynote  of  the  entertainment  offered  by 
the  speaker.  Here  is  no  place  for  com- 
plexities, for  the  intricacies  of  genius  in  argu- 
ment. Whatever  is  said  must  be  of  a  sort 
that  the  hearers  may  follow  fully  without 
any  least  suggestion  of  mental  strain.  When 
the  speaker  compels  his  listeners  to  con- 
centrate their  minds  in  an  effort  to  think 
deeply,  he  interrupts  the  pleasant  processes 
of  digestion,  and  that  interruption  reacts 
emotionally  on  his  audience,  so  disagreeably 
that  both  the  speech  and  speaker  are  dis- 

[9] 


AFTER-DINNER  SPEECHES 

liked.  The  brilliant  idea/  the  tremendous 
appeal,  the  erudition  of  the  scholar  should  be 
rigorously  barred  from  this  interval  of  re- 
laxation, ease  and  goodfellowship.  The  talk, 
whatever  its  theme,  must  be  harmonious  to 
the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  or  it  will  be  a  failure. 
Perhaps  the  one  word  that  may  best  char- 
acterize the  quality  to  be  sought  for  this 
form  of  speaking  is  geniality.  This  is  well 
illustrated  in  the  person  of  Chauncey  M. 
Depew,  whose  ability  as  an  after-dinner 
speaker  was  of  the  highest  order.  His  geni- 
ality was  always  distinctive,  in  both  manner 
and  words.  It  is  a  lamentable  truth  that 
such  geniality  is  often  lacking.  Its  absence 
means  an  address  from  which  the  reputation 
of  the  speaker  and  the  patience  of  his  audience 
alike  suffer.  The  man  with  a  message  must 
not  rant  it  after  dinner.  Here  is  no  place  to 
parade  the  atrocities  in  Armenia,  or  to  recite 
statistics  that  prove  the  salvation  or  damna- 
tion of  this  or  that.  The  response  of  the 
listeners  to  these,  and  the  like,  at  such  a  time, 
will  be  either  scowls  or  yawns. 


INTRODUCTORY 

It  is  evident,  at  the  outset,  that  the  require- 
ment of  geniality  involves  in  itself  as  well 
simplicity,  to  which  reference  has  already 
been  made.  For  geniality  demands  sim- 
plicitv  as  an  essential  to  its  character.  The 
pompous  man  is  never  truly  genial,  however 
hard  he  may  try  to  show  himself  in  that 
aspect.  Similarly,  the  pompous  manner  is 
fatal  to  the  success  of  the  after-dinner  speaker 
since  it  renders  geniality  impossible.  The 
necessary  geniality  is  merely  the  sense  of 
well-keing  within  one's  self  extended  outward 
into  unity  with  the  happy  mood  of  the  com- 
pany as  a  whole.  The  speaker  must  show 
that  he  is  at  ease,  that  he  is  contented  with 
things  in  general,  with  himself  and  particularly 
with  his  company.  ^  Such  geniality  is  not 
difficult  of  attainment,  for  simplicity,  sin- 
cerity and  practise  are  the  only  essentials. 

One  who  is  ambitious  to  achieve  a  reputa- 
tion as  an  after-dinner  speaker  must  appreci- 
ate thoroughly  the  nature  of  his  undertaking. 
It  is  not  his  duty  to  prepare  a  serious  oration 
and  to  deliver  it  with  fire  and  passion;    his 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

part  is  merely  to  entertain;  to  that  end  he 
should  devote  all  his  resources;  and  accord- 
ing to  the  measure  in  which  he  entertains  so 
will  be  the  measure  of  his  success.  He  need 
not  limit  himself  to  froth  and  frivolity,  but 
he  must  limit  himself  rigidly  to  the  purpose*^ 
of  entertaining,  and  of  entertaining.^  only. 
There  may  be  crumbs  of  information,  of 
learning,  of  sentiment,  just  as  there  may  be 
carav/ay  seeds  in  a  loaf  of  rye  bread,  but  these 
must  be  no  more  than  scattered  crumbs.  It 
must  be  borne  in  mind  constantly  that  the 
occasion  for  such  speaking  is  a  festive  one. 
The  audience  has  satisfied  its  physical  crav- 
ings, and  is  in  a  condition  of  placid  content- 
ment, which  will  resent  any  serious  disturb- 
ance, but  will  welcome  a  gentle  mental  fillip 
as  a  subtle  sauce  piquant  to  the  feast.  Savages 
have  always  taken  their  food  very  seriously. 
Civilized  man  tends  to  do  the  same.  When 
a  really  hungry  person  sits  down  to  eat,  con- 
versation is  a  nuisance.  To  mingle  dining, 
dancing,  prima  donna,  and  worse,  is  a  present- 
day  absurdity.     In  baronial  halls  of  an  earlier 

[12] 


INTRODUCTORY 

age,  where  there  was  mighty  feasting,  talking 
was  usually  taboo  until  the  food  had  vanished. 
Afterward,  came  speeches  of  welcome  to 
visitors  at  the  board,  and  their  responses, 
boasting  narratives  of  individual  exploits, 
toasts  to  beauty,  all  the  varied  expressions  of 
man  as  a  social  creature.  Human  nature 
remains  much  the  same  throughout  its  count- 
less guises.  The  breaking  of  bread  together, 
the  sharing  of  salt,  which  has  always  been 
sanctified  in  some  measure  among  primitive 
peoples,  avails  something  still  in  the  more 
cultured  world  of  to-day.  Ordinarily,  some 
degree  of  fellowship  at  least  is  created  among 
those  who  sit  together  to  eat,  simply  from  the 
fact  of  such  association.  The  effect  is  en- 
hanced when  the  gathering  is  made  a  par- 
ticular function  of  importance.  The  time  is 
one  for  material  enjoyment  of  a  wholesome 
sort.  That  enjoyment  brings  the  assembly 
into  a  receptive  state,  in  which  there  is 
readiness  to  welcome  a  final,  finer  pleasure 
to  be  afforded  by  a  speaker  whose  art  is  of  a 
sort    to    satisfy.     The    orator    who    realizes 

C13] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

fully  the  meaning  of  this  mood  in  his  audience 
responds  to  it,  and  exercises  his  arts  of  enter- 
tainment in  an  address  primarily  simple  and 
genial,  afterward  distinctive  and  diverting  ac- 
cording to  his  individual  ability. 


LhI 


Chapter  II 
SIMPLICirr 

THE  after-dinner  speaker  should  at 
the  outset  recognize  the  virtue 
of  simpHcity  in  his  art,  and  en- 
deavor persistently  to  make  it  an 
attribute  of  his  own.  This  simplicity  is  of  a 
fundamental  sort,  and  it  should  be  extended 
specifically  in  three  applications.  The  first 
of  the  three  has  to  do  with  the  manner, 
generally  considered,  of  the  speaker,  while 
the  second  and  third  are  concerned  respec- 
tively with  the  language  employed  in  the 
address  and  the  substance  —  in  other  words, 
the  form  and  the  idea. 

Now,  as  to  the  manner  of  th&  speaker.  This 
includes  his  personal  appearance,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  within  his  control;  his  bearing,  facial 
expression,  position  of  the  hands,  and  the 
like;    in  fact,   everything  that  goes  to  the 

[is: 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

making  up  of  appearance  and  demeanor.  And 
just  here  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  instructions 
concerning  simpKcity  must  be  of  a  negative, 
rather  than  a  positive  character.  It  is  well 
enough  to  declare  that  the  speaker  must  as- 
sume an  easy  and  graceful  posture.  But  it 
is  more  difficult,  if  not  quite  impossible,  to 
describe  in  detail  what  constitutes  an  easy 
and  graceful  posture.  It  is  safe  to  urge  that 
the  position  assumed  be  a  natural  one,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  effect  of  self-consciousness 
and  evident  artificiality.  But  along  with 
this,  we  must  give  particular  counsel  of  the 
negative  kind,  directions  as  to  what  should 
not  be  done.  Thus,  the  attitude,  though 
natural,  should  not  be  slouchy.  The  speaker 
should  be  at  pains  to  stand  erect,  with  head 
held  well  up.  He  should  not  stoop,  or  let 
his  head  fall  forward,  or  leave  his  eyes  down- 
cast. He  must  show  by  a  certain  dignity  in 
his  pose  his  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  for 
the  moment  he  is  the  object  of  interest  to  the 
company.  An  awkward,  listless  or .  bored^ 
air  would  evidence  a  lack  of  respect,  and  of 


SIMPLICITY 

itself  create  a  preliminary  prejudice  against 
the  speaker.  The  hands  should  not  be  thrust 
into  the  pockets.  They  should  hang  loosely 
at  the  sides.  Even  the  thrusting  of  one 
within  the  breast  of  the  coat  is  to  be  depre- 
cated. They  should  not  be  permitted  to 
rest  on  the  table ;  there  is  too  much  likelihood 
that  if  thus  placed  the  fingers  will  presently 
begin  to  toy  with  anything  that  chances  to 
lie  within  reach.  When  the  nervousness  of 
a  speaker  is  such  that  he  cannot  readily  con- 
trol the  movements  of  his  hands,  he  may 
clasp  them  behind  his  back,  and  thus  hold 
them  in  order.  He  should  take  care  also  to 
avoid  resting  his  hands  on  the  back  of  his 
chair.  Besides  the  awkwardness  of  this  pos- 
ture, it  leads  almost  invariable  to  a  jiggling 
of  the  chair  in  a  manner  that  might  be  highly 
interesting  if  done  by  spooks  at  a  seance,  but 
can  only  unpleasantly  distract  the  attention 
of  the  speaker's  audience.  In  this  connection, 
it  should  be  pointed  out  that  a  posture  of 
eas^  and  dignity  can  be  held  only  when  there 
is  no  excess  of  self-consciousness,  and  such 

C17] 


•V 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

excess  of  self-consciousness  is  escaped  simply 
by  fixing  the  attention  on  the  speech  itself.  A 
real  concentration  maintained  throughout  on 
his  discourse  will  save  the  speaker  from  any 
embarrassing  consciousness  of  himself. 

Just  as  the  posture  should  be  one  of  dig- 
nified simplicity,  so  should  the  method  of 
delivery.  Here,  again,  negative  directions 
are  important.  There  must  be  no  ranting. 
The  voice  should  be  moderate,  of  no  more 

n-,  .  _  ' 

volume  than  is  necessary  for  distinctness. 
There  should  be  no  tricks  of  delivery.  Ora- 
torical variations  of  pitch  and  inflection  are 
to  be  shunned.  An  ordinary  conversational 
tone  suffices.  The  only  change  from  the 
usual  manner  of  talking  should  be  in  an  in- 
creased distinctness  of  enunciation,  and,  of 
course,  particular  care  in  the  proper  formation 
of  every  phrase  and  sentence. 

It  should  be  observed  in  this  connection 
that  the  tendency  of  present-day  oratory  of 
the  more  serious  sort  is  distinctly  toward  the 
same  simplicity.  Within  recent  years,  there 
has  come  an  essential  change  in  the  methods 


SIMPLICITY, 

of  the  best  public  speakers.  The  spread-eagle 
style  of  speechmaking  still  survives,  but  it  is 
to  be  found  chiefly  in  more  remote  com- 
munities, where  traditions  are  difficult  to 
overcome,  and  the  populace  demands  of  the 
orator  a  turgid  rhetoric  delivered  with  all 
the  vocal  and  gesticulatory  embellishments  of 
fiery  eloquence.  But  the  ablest  speakers  in 
the  chief  centers  of  our  civilization  prefer  a 
simpler  fashion  of  address,  and  rely  chiefly  on 
the  clearness  and  power  of  the  argument 
presented.  Thus,  while  discoursing  on  the 
gravest  themes,  they  approach  in  manner 
that  which  has  been  described  as  especially 
suitable  for  the  after-dinner  speaker.  The 
chief  difference  lies  in  the  quality  of  geniality, 
concerning  which  there  will  be  some  discussion 
in  the  chapter  following.  The  genial  quality, 
which  is  essential  to  the  successful  after- 
dinner  speaker  may,  or  may  not,  distinguish 
the  mode  employed  by  the  more  serious  orator. 
But  the  after-dinner  speaker  may  find  a  real 
satisfaction  in  the  trend  toward  simplicity 
of  all  oratory.     For  by  so  much  as  he  is  able 

[19] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

to  attain  skill  in  the  lighter  kind  of  speech- 
making,  he  actually  is  preparing  himself  for 
success  in  the  more  pretentious  style  of 
oratory.  The  distinction  between  the  two 
in  the  matter  of  manner  was  most  marked  in 
the  past,  but  to-day  the  difference  is  slight, 
and  any  excellence  acquired  in  the  one  is 
easily  to  be  transferred  to  the  other. 

The  third  application  of  simplicity  is  to  the 
thought  presented  in  the  speech.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  audience  is  engaged  in 
the  task  of  digestion,  and  these  agreeable 
physical  processes  should  not  be  unduly  dis- 
turbed by  violent  appeals  on  the  part  of  the 
speaker  to  either  the  emotions  or  the  intellect. 
The  single  exception  has  to  do  with  humor, 
which  seems  to  stimulate  agreeably  the  di- 
gestive action,  and  due  attention  will  be 
given  to  this  fact  later  on.  For  the  present, 
our  concern  is  with  the  necessity  for  sim- 
plicity in  constructing  the  outline  of  the 
address.  There  should  be  nothing  in  the 
least  difficult  for  the  audience  to  follow.  In- 
tellectual subtleties  are  not  for  such  an  oc- 


SIMPLICITY 

casion.  Indeed,  the  speech  must  be  abso- 
lutely free  from  anything  calculated  to  tax 
the  brains  of  the  listeners.  Once  thoroughly 
appreciated,  this  fact  greatly  lightens  the  task 
of  preparing  the  after-din^ej:  speech.  The 
novice  (some  who  are  not  novices  commit 
the  same  fault)  is  likely  to  strain  his  mental 
faculties  in  an  effort  to  assemble  ideas  of  an 
impressive  sort.  He  fancies  that  his  address 
should  contain  something  remarkable  in  order 
to  impress  his  own  ability  upon  his  hapless 
hearers.  He  therefore  cudgels  his  wits  to 
find  ideas  such  as  he  deems  worthy  of  himself 
and  of  the  occasion.  By  so  much  as  he  suc- 
ceeds in  this  undertaking,  his  speech  becomes 
ponderous  and  tedious.  He  should,  on  the 
contrary,  select  a  simple  idea  fitting  to  the 
occasion  and  after  this  selection  has  been 
made,  he  should  determine  an  equally  simple 
way  of  introducing  the  topic,  and  of  con- 
cluding it.  As  will  be  shown  further  on,  this 
method  is  entirely  adequate  in  all  circum- 
stances, and  admits  of  endless  variation  as 

the  need  arises.     In  addition,  there  remains 

1:21: 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

only  the  matter  of  embellishmeiits.  Par- 
ticular attention  will  be  given  to  this  phase 
of  the  subject  in  a  subsequent  chapter  under 
the  heading  of  *'Wit  and  Humor." 

When  it  so  happens  that  a  person  absolutely 
without  experience  is  required  to  make  a 
speech,  he  is  prone  to  be  nervously  appre- 
hensive of  making  an  ignominious  failure. 
Yet,  he  need  have  no  such  fear.  In  the  first 
place,  he  may  comfort  himself  with  the 
realization  that  the  audience  will  hardly 
expect  any  eloquence  from  such  a  maiden 
effort.  And  in  the  second  place,  the  glib- 
ness  of  a  veteran  orator  would  be  rather 
unbecoming,  as  well  as  unexpected,  in  the 
speech  of  one  wholly  inexperienced.  The 
novice  must  not  be  unduly  distressed  over 
any  embarrassment  he  may  feel  in  an  un- 
familiar situation,  since  the  company  will 
appreciate  his  trouble  and  be  sympathetic 
in  his  behalf.  Moreover,  the  display  of 
embarrassment  is  not  unseemly  in  such  cases. 
The  hesitating  speech  is  not  only  tolerated, 
but  is  approved  and  applauded.    The  single 

[22] 


SIMPLICITY 

requirement  is  that  there  should  be  a  speech. 
It  is  advisable  that  the  beginner  should  ex- 
hibit conspicuously  the  merit  of  brevity  in 
his  address.  In  this  wise,  he  makes  the  task 
the  easiest  possible  for  both  himself  and  his 
hearers.  It  is  better,  too,  that  in  his  earliest 
efforts  the  speaker  should  not  depend  on 
extemporaneous  utterances.  After  he  has 
spoken  in  public  a  few  times,  he  will  acquire 
a  fair  degree  of  self-confidence,  so  that  he 
may  venture  to  leave  the  exact  fashioning  ot 
sentences  to  the  moment  of  speaking  them, 
but  in  the  initial  attempts  it  will  be  expedient 
to  write  down  a  very  short  address  and  to 
memorize  this  perfectly.  In  subsequent 
speeches,  it  is  often  advisable  to  mingle  the 
extemporaneous  and  the  memorized >  One 
of  the  most  frequent  faults  in  the  extempo- 
raneous speaker  is  a  glaring  inability  to  stop. 
It  is  a  sad  fact  that  innumerable  admirable 
speeches  are  spoiled  by  rambling  on  and  on 
long  after  they  should  have  ended.  The 
extemporaneous  orator  in  his  pride  is  eager 

to  add  a  concluding  sentence  of  particular 

C23] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

power,  and  this  sentence  is  always  just  beyond. 
He  tries  for  it,  and  tries  again  ad  nauseam. 
This  error  is  most  easily  avoided  by  determin- 
ing in  advance  the  exact  form  of  the  final 
sentence  or  paragraph.  When  this  has  been 
memorized,  the  task  of  ending  the  speech 
ceases  to  be  troublesome.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  repeat  the  memorized  bit,  and  then  to  sit 
down. 


[243 


Chapter  III 
GENIALirr 

WHOEVER  would  succeed  in 
the  art  of  after-dinner  speak- 
ing should  take  to  heart  his 
need  of  geniality  as  an  attri- 
bute. The  quality  as  it  is  meant  here  is  of 
wide  application,  and  it  should  persist  with- 
out interruption  throughout  every  address 
delivered.  It  must  not  be  limited  merely 
to  externals,  but  it  must  be  characteristic  of 
all  details  in  the  speech  itself  and  even  of  the 
substance  of  the  thought. 

Geniality  must  be  conspicuous  in  the  whole 
personality  of  the  speaker.  And  it  is  just 
here  that  there  is  danger.  The  geniality 
must  be  real:  an  artificial  assumption  of  a 
genial  manner  fails  of  its  purpose.  The 
speaker's  appearance  of  cheery  kindliness 
must  come  from  a  genuine  feeling  within  him. 

C25] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

It  is  true  that  the  winning  smile  and  beam- 
ing glance  may  be  cultivated,  and  the  am- 
bitious orator  should  cultivate  them  as- 
siduously. But  he  should  be  careful  to  cul- 
tivate as  well  even  more  diligently  the  genial 
mood  for  himself,  of  which  smile  and  glance 
shall  be  the  natural  manifestation.  Honest 
feeling  carries  a  magnetism  of  its  own  that 
cannot  be  duplicated  by  any  skill  of  hy- 
pocrisy. Moods  can  be  controlled  by  an 
intelligent  exercise  of  the  will  and  faithful 
practise.  The  speaker  should  attain  such  a 
mastery  over  himself  that  whenever  he  rises 
to  address  an  audience  he  actually  experiences 
that  feeling  of  geniality  which  is  essential  to 
his  success. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  genial  manner  is 
requisite  to  an  occasion  of  a  festive  sort.  It 
is  not  so  obvious  that  the  genial  quality  should 
pervade  as  well  the  substance  and  the  spirit 
of  the  speech.  Too  many  speakers  err 
in  permitting  wit  to  overcome  kindliness. 
Laughter  may  be  provoked  by  clever  sar- 
casm and  ironic  personal  allusions,  but  this 

1:263 


GENIALITY 

sort  of  brilliancy  provokes  a  certain  distrust 
of  the  orator  that  reacts  very  unfavorably 
upon  his  reputation.  Equal  laughter  may  be 
excited  by  wit  and  humor  that  have  no  sting, 
that  leave  no  aftermath  of  bitterness. 

So,  the  speaker  who  desires  a  reputation 
of  the  best  must  see  to  it  that  the  genial 
quality  be  not  lacking  in  every  sentence  he 
utters.  In  a  more  intimate  gathering,  there 
is  much  opportunity  for  references  to  this  or 
that  person  among  the  company  and  these 
by  the  exercise  of  ingenuity  based  on  knowl- 
edge may  be  made  very  ami^sing  indeed. 
But  never  at  the  cost  of^ynpleasantness  to 
one  thus  singled  out.  There  must  be  no 
malice.  Every  quip  must  be  founded  in  good 
nature,  made  inoffensive  by  kindliness.  The 
speaker  will  find  here  ample  occasion  for  the 
exercise  of  discreet  judgment.  Most  of  us 
have  our  own  pet  foibles.  Of  some  of  these 
we  are  proud;  of  others  we  are  ashamed. 
Allusions  to  the  first  please  us,  to  the  second 
distress  us.  The  speaker  may  find  excellent 
material  in  the  first;    he  must  scrupulously 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

avoid  any  reference  to  the  second.  The 
condition  of  true  geniality  demands  the  en- 
tertainment of  all,  the  enjoyment  of  all,  not 
the  amusing  of  some  at  the  expense  of  others. 
The  point  made  here  concerning  the  foibles 
of  persons  is  to  be  extended  still  further  in 
its  application.  The  speaker. must  carefully 
avoid  any  topic  .<)Yer  which  the  company  is 
seriously  divided  in  its  opinions.  He  must 
bear  m  mmd  constantly  that  it  is  his  part  to 
grace  a  festive  occasion.  Nothing  could  be 
more  tactless  than  to  introduce  a  theme 
provocative  of  bitter  feeling  among  his 
hearers.  If  he  retains  carefully  in  his  con- 
sciousness the  necessity  for  geniality,  he  will 
escape  such  errors  of  taste.  Even  where  a 
particular  subject  has  been  assigned  to  the 
speaker,  and  this  subject  is  one  over  which 
ill  feeling  exists,  it  is  always  possible  by  the 
exercise  of  ingenuity  so  to  treat  the  topic 
as  to  render  it  harmless.  In  every  instance, 
this  method  should  be  followed,  or  the 
speaker    himself   will    suffer    in    the    public 

estimation.     Wit    and    humor    are    of   vital 

£28] 


GENIALITY 

importance  to  the  genial  effect  of  a  discourse, 
as  we  shall  point  out  in  the  following  chapter. 
And  both  wit  and  humor  may  be  savage  and 
cruel,  or  they  may  be  amiable  and  joyous. 
The  amusement  of  the  evil  sort  must  be 
conscientiously  excluded  at  all  times  by  the 
speaker  who  is  desirous  of  an  honorable  fame. 
But  there  are  no  bounds  except  those  im- 
posed by  his  own  abilities  as  to  the  availa- 
bility of  that  wit  or  humor  which  is  free  from 
any  least  trace  of  malice. 

Let  us  now  consider  more  extensively  this 
most  important  phase  of  our  subject. 


C29] 


Chapter  IV 
WIT  AND  HUMOR 

WIT  and  humor  are,  or  at  least 
should  be,  characteristic  of 
the  after-dinner  speech.  The 
importance  of  this  quality  in 
the  lighter  form  of  oratory  cannot  be  over- 
estimated. 

We  have  no  concern  with  the  rather 
difficult  distinctions  that  may  be  drawn  be- 
tween wit  and  humor.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
definitions  in  this  regard  are  usually  rather 
confusing,  if  not  inaccurate.  It  is  enough 
for  our  purpose  to  realize  that  wit  is  dependent 
on  an  intellectual  activity,  while  humor  may 
have  its  source  in  circumstances.  For  ex- 
ample, there  was  a  humorous  situation  when 
the  cottage  gate  displayed  an  imposing  sign: 
''Beware  the  dog,"  and  there  was  nowhere 
any  evidence  of  the  alleged  dangerous  creature. 

C30] 


WIT  AND  HUMOR 

But  the  absurdity  of  the  situation  was  em- 
phasized by  wit  when  a  passer-by  rewrote 
the  sign  to  read:  "Ware  be  the  dog?"  It 
is  pure  humor  in  the  story  of  the  absent- 
minded  professor  who,  on  returning  home 
is  confronted  by  a  new  maid  and  is  informed 
by  the  servant,  unknowing  his  identity,  that 
■the, professor  is  out.  He  thereupon  sits  down 
gri  the  doorstep  patiently  to  await  his  own 
return.  Here  simply  the  situation  in  itself  is 
ludicrous.  There  is  no  intellectual  activity 
involved.  On  the  contrary!  On  the  other 
hand,  pure  wit  is  displayed  in  a  story  that 
has  to  do  with  Choate  in  his  younger  days. 
On  one  occasion,  he  was  engaged  in  trying  a 
case  in  Westchester  County,  which  lies  ad- 
jacent to  New  York  City.  The  opposing 
attorney  referred  to  the  "  Chesterfieldian  ur- 
banity" of  his  adversary.  Choate,  in  reply- 
ing, spoke  casually  of  the  "Westchesterfieldian 
suburbanity"  of  the  other  lawyer. 

It  is  often  said  that  the  pun  is  the  lowest 
form  of  humor,  but  this  allegation,  like  most 
generalities,  is  untrue.     Actually,  a  pun  may 

L3i2 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

be  good  or  it  may  be  bad.  The  disfavor  with 
which  it  is  regarded  is  due  to  the  fact  that  a 
punning  habit  is  of  all  things  tiresome.  One 
guilty  of  this  vice  makes  his  plays  on  words 
in  season  and  out  of  season  with  no  care  as  to 
whether  or  not  the  idea  presented  be  of  an 
amusing  sort.  Yet  in  just  this  point  is  in- 
volved the  value  or  the  worthlessness  of  any 
pun.  When  the  play  on  words  presents  an 
idea  that  in  itself  is  diverting,  the  wit  is 
admirable.  When  the  verbal  juggling  offers 
no  suggestion  that  is  amusing,  the  pun  is 
absolutely  without  excuse.  There  is  excel- 
lent wit  in  the  story  told  above  of  Choate,  yet 
it  is  only  punning.  So,  too,  the  merit  in  the 
story  of  the  changed  sign  concerning  the  dog 
lies  in  the  pun.  But  in  each  instance,  the 
pun  itself  is  of  a  kind  to  provoke  laughter. 

So  much  attention  to  the  meaning  of  wit 
and  humor  is  demanded  as  preliminary  be- 
cause of  the  vital  part  they  must  play  in  the 
success  of  an  after-dinner  speaker.  The  as- 
pirant to  honors  in  this  field  should  make  no 
mistake  in  regard  to  the  prime  need  of  ability 

C323 


WIT  AND  HUMOR 

to  amuse  his  audience.  Let  him  remember 
all  that  has  been  said  concerning  the  require- 
ment  for  geniality.  The  same  argument 
reaches  out  with  even  greater  emphasis  to 
insist  on  the  employment  of  wit  and  humor 
in  every  such  address.  We  have  to  do  with 
a  festal  occasion,  and  the  spirit  of  that  oc- 
casion is  to  be  interpreted  chiefly  always  by 
mirth.  Pathos  and  tears  are  permissible  for 
marriages  and  funerals,  but  they  hamper 
digestion,  and  are  totally  out  of  place  after 
dinner.  The  proper  adjuncts  to  follow  feast- 
ing are  smxiles  and  laug:hter.  Ripples  of 
merriment,  or  even  more  gusty  cachinnations, 
help,  rather  than  hinder,  the  digestive  proc- 
esses. It  is  for  the  speaker  to  employ  all  his 
arts  toward  amusing  his  audience,  toward 
moulding  their  mental  state  to  a  well-being 
in  harmony  with  the  physical.  It  is  some- 
times asserted  that  the  after-dinner  speaker 
should  by  no  means  limit  himself  to  funny 
stories,  but  should  rather  present  a  well- 
thought-out  address  containing  serious  ideas. 
Objection  to  humor  as  the  chief  ingredient  in 

[33] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

the  discourse  is  based  on  a  total  misunder- 
standing as  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion. 
There  are  opportunities  a  plenty  for  the 
presentation  of  serious  ideas  without  lugging 
them  to  the  banquet  hall.  The  postprandial 
hour  is  solely  for  pleasure,  not  for  heavy 
thought.  The  speaker  must  bear  this  fact 
in  mind  constantly,  and  never,  by  ill-timed 
gravity  thwart  the  mood  of  the  company. 
In  consequence,  he  is  to  make  his  main  reliance 
on  wit  and  humor  in  every  such  address.  In- 
deed, it  is  almost  impossible  for  him  to  err 
by  being  too  funny.  It  was  all  very  well  for 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  to  write  a  poem  in 
which,  after  describing  the  ill  effects  of  over- 
much laughter  by  the  printer's  boy  reading 
the  author's  verses,  to  assert  that  "since  then 
I've  never  dared  to  be  as  funny  as  I  can." 
The  ambitious  speaker  need  have  one  last 
qualm  of  fear  in  this  regard.  He  may  safely 
dare  his  utmost  in  the  way  of  being  funny, 
and  by  so  much  as  he  is  successful  in  his 
efforts  his  fame  will  increase,  and  the  de- 
mands for  his  presence  will  multiply. 

[34] 


WIT  AND  HUMOR 

One  who  intends  to  make  a  habit  of  after- 
dinner  speaking  should  devote  himself  very 
earnestly  to  the  art  of  story-telling.  For 
this,  the  first  essential  is  an  adequate  supply 
of  the  stories  themselves.  There  is,  fortu- 
nately, no  lack  of  these.  Excellent  stories  are 
being  told  constantly  by  word  of  mouth,  by 
the  newspapers  and  in  the  magazines,  of  which 
many  have  a  special  humorous  department. 
But,  unless  one  has  strafned  himself  particu- 
larly to  retain  memory  of  the  stories  he  hears 
or  reads,  and  has  grown  skilled  in  recalling 
them  at  will  so  that  they  may  be  available 
whenever  desired,  he  will  do  well  in  the  be- 
ginning to  make  a  business  of  remembering 
by  means  of  notes  and  clippings.  It  is  ad- 
visable for  the  tyro  to  employ  a  scrap  book  as 
a  convenient  and  comprehensive  aid  to  recol- 
lection. Whenever  he  chances  on  a  good 
story  in  his  reading,  he  captures  it  for  his  own 
by  cutting  it  out  and  pasting  it  in  the  book. 
He  will  be  astonished  by  the  rapidity  with 
which  his  collection  increases  in  bulk,  and 
likewise   by   the   variety  offered   in   the   as- 

[35] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

sembled  tales.  A  few  weeks  of  industry  will 
supply  a  humorous  repertory  of  no  mean 
extent,  and  persistance  in  the  practise  will 
soon  afford  a  sufficient  stock  for  all  possible 
occasions.  It  may  be  desirable,  also,  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  to  include  in  the 
scrap  book  brief  written  notes  of  any  good 
stories  heard.  This  method  has  the  advan- 
tage of  simplicity,  since  all  the  material  is 
gathered  between  the  covers  of  a  single 
book. 

There  should  be  no  attempt  at  classification 
of  the  stories.  And  this  for  two  reasons. 
The  first  reason  is  that  any  effort  toward 
arrangement  of  the  various  anecdotes  would 
seriously  complicate  the  labor  involved  and 
render  it  onerous.  The  second  reason  is  that 
no  advantage  is  derived  from  such  classifica- 
tion. This  fact  might  easily  be  questioned  by 
the  inexperienced  person,  but  actually  it 
cannot  be  controverted.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
a  true  classification  of  stories  cannot  be  made 
without  repetitions  to  the  point  of  absurdity. 
The  essential  character  of  any  story  lies  in  the 

[36: 


WIT  AND  HUMOR 

application  of  it.  Let  us  demonstrate  this 
by  an  example. 

A  kindly  old  lady  visiting  the  zoo  was 
present  at  the  feeding  of  the  lions.  She 
regarded  the  huge  cats  sympathetically,  and 
at  last  ventured  a  question  to  the  keeper: 

"Isn't  that  a  very  small  piece  of  meat  to 
give  to  the  lions?" 

The  keeper  answered  with  sincere  polite- 
ness —  of  intention: 

"Well,  mum,  it  may  seem  like  a  very  small 
piece  of  meat  to  you,  mum,  but  it  seems  like 
a  very  big  piece  of  meat  to  the  lions,  mum." 

Now,  here  is  an  anecdote  that  is  sufficiently 
amusing  for  the  scrap  book.  Moreover,  it  is 
of  a  sort  that  lends  itself  excellently  for  pur- 
poses of  illustration.  How,  then,  shall  we 
classify  it?  Of  course,  it  may  be  slipped  into 
the  L  columns  with  the  caption,  "Lions." 
Thus  indexed,  the  story  will  be  available 
whenever  there  is  need  of  one  that  has  to  do 
with  lions.  But  —  \  The  usefulness  of  this 
particular  tale  is  by  no  means  limited  to  that 
particular  subject.     In  reality,  the  character 

C37] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

of  the  story  is  determined  by  its  application. 
And  this  application  is  not  limited  to  one  thing; 
the  scope  of  application  is  broad,  as  may  be 
seen  almost  at  a  glance,  and  it  becomes  still 
broader  under  further  scrutiny.  Thus,  the 
story  may  be  used  in  connection  with  the 
subject  of  kindness,  for  the  old  lady's  question 
was  begotten  of  sympathy.  Or  it  may  be 
used  in  connection  with  error,  for  she  had  a 
mistaken  notion  as  to  what  was  required  by 
the  beasts.  Or  it  may  be  used  in  connection 
with  the  subject  of  politeness,  for  the  keeper 
meant  to  be  very  polite  indeed.  Or  it  may 
be  used  in  connection  with  the  subject  of 
exactness,  for  the  keeper  was  laboriously 
exact  in  his  reply.  Or  it  may  be  used  in  con- 
nection with  the  subjects  of  meat,  food  in 
general,  the  appetites  of  animals  or  of  old 
ladies,  or  the  manners  of  men  and  women  and 
brutes,  civic  improvements  as  represented 
by  the  zoo  in  the  park  and  so  forth,  and  so 
forth.  To  index  properly  such  a  story  would 
require  its  repetition  under  many  headings. 
In    truth,     the     experienced     after-dinner 

C38: 


WIT  AND  HUMOR 

speaker  knows  very  well  that  the  requirement 
of  chief  importance  is  the  really  good  story. 
Once  this  is  secured,  it  is  possible  by  the 
exercise  of  a  little  ingenuity  to  make  it  ap- 
plicable to  almost  any  subject.  For  there 
are  many  phases  of  thought  in  even  the 
simplest  of  tales,  and  the  application  depends 
wholly  on  just  which  phase  may  be  selected 
by  the  speaker  for  emphasis. 

So,  in  the  scrap  book,  there  is  no  occasion 
for  an  index.  Whenever  a  story  is  desired, 
it  is  easily  to  be  found  by  glancing  over  the 
columms.  Presently,  one  will  be  discovered 
of  which  the  humor  at  this  moment  strikes  a 
particularly  responsive  chord.  The  searcher 
makes  this  his  choice,  and  studies  it  in  order 
to  find  just  how  he  can  apply  it  to  his  pur- 
pose. This  task  will  not  prove  difficult.  In 
fact,  the  concentration  required  is  likely  to 
suggest  ideas  available  for  his  use,  so  that  the 
time  thus  employed  will  be  well  worth  while. 


C  39.3 


Chapter  V 
TELLING  A  STORT 

TO  the  speaker  who  would  excel  In 
after-dinner  oratory,  it  is  essential 
that  he  should  be  able  not  only 
to  tell  a  good  story,  but  also  to 
tell  it  exceedingly  well.  Ability  in  this  di- 
rection is  an  art  by  itself.  It  is  true  that 
certain  persons  appear  to  possess  a  natural 
knack  as  raconteurs.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
natural  aptitude  plays  an  important  part. 
But  one  who  feels  himself  lacking  in  a  par- 
ticular talent  of  this  sort  may  comfort  himself 
with  the  knowledge  that  in  story-telling  as 
in  other  things  practise  makes  perfect.  It  is 
by  no  means  necessary  to  be  born  with  the 
knack.  It  can  be  cultivated,  and  a  real 
ability  developed  by  persistent  exercise.  In- 
deed, we  may  incline  to  a  belief  that  the 
knack  seemingly  inherent  in  some  persons  is 

C403 


TELLING  A  STORY 

actually  the  result  of  constant  practise.  For 
an  individual  who  is  fond  of  story-telling  is 
likely  to  be  forever  following  his  bent,  and  he 
thus  assiduously  exercises  his  skill,  and  in- 
creases it  to  the  utmost  possible.  On  the 
other  hand,  one  who  has  never  made  a 
habit  of  story-telling  is,  of  course,  seriously 
hampered  when  he  attempts  the  unfamiliar 
task.  Yet,  he  may  possess  an  excellent 
equipment  mentally  and  temperamentally. 
Like  any  machine,  however,  it  cannot  operate 
at  its  best  until  after  a  certain  amount  of  use. 
Any  person  of  average  ability  can  readily 
perfect  himself  in  the  art  of  story-telling. 
Intelligent  practise  is  the  only  requirement. 

The  first  necessity  in  relating  any  story 
is  an  exact  understanding  of  its  point.  A 
blunder  that  we  hear  almost  daily  from 
someone  is  the  omission  of  a  detail  essential 
to  making  the  point  clear.  No  story  can  be 
effective  when  the  narrator  is  compelled  to 
tack  on  at  the  end  an  apologetic,  "Oh,  I  for- 
got to  say ,"  or,  "I  should  have  men- 
tioned   ,"   or   the   like.     Not   only  must 

[413 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

the  point  of  the  story  as  it  is  made  in  the 
climax  be  exactly  understood  and  as  exactly 
presented,  but  every  detail  of  an  essential 
kind  that  precedes  must  be  noted  as  well 
and  given  its  place  in  the  narration.  In  the 
story  as  to  the  feeding  of  the  animals,  for 
example,  the  point  is  in  the  two  sentences 
exchanged  by  the  old  lady  and  the  keeper. 
The  precise  wording  is  vital  in  this  case,  be- 
cause of  the  amusing  manner  in  which  the 
two  statements  are  opposed.  The  single 
feature  of  the  preceding  part  that  is  impera- 
tive is  the  fact  that  a  woman  was  present 
during  the  feeding  of  lions.  The  scene  might 
be  shifted  to  the  menagerie  of  a  circus  with- 
out affecting  the  point  of  the  story.  But  the 
hearers  myst  be  told  that  a  woman  witnessed 
the  lions*  meal.  In  this  particular  story,  that 
one  fact  is  the  only  significant  detail.  The 
teller  might  include  other  circumstances  at 
his  pleasure  in  order  to  extend  the  length  of 
the  story  or  perhaps  to  make  it  more  amusing 
or  more  effective  in  a  special  application. 
Thus,  he  might  describe  the  old  lady  as  a 

C4O 


TELLING  A  STORY 

country  woman  who  had  cooked  through 
many  years  for  a  family  of  husky  menfolks. 
Her  personal  experience  with  their  appetites 
would  serve  to  explain  her  conviction  that 
the  supply  for  the  lions  was  stingy.  It  is 
obvious  that  such  embellishment  would  not 
affect  in  any  degree-  the  point  of  the  story. 

Where  a  tyro  in  after-dinner  speaking  is 
beset  by  fear  of  confusion  at  the  critical 
moment  that  might  induce  a  clumsy  or  wrong 
statement  of  the  point  of  the  story,  he  should 
insure  himself  against  the  possibility  of  such 
a  mishap  by  memorizing  that  part  of  the 
anecdote.  In  the  tale  of  the  lady  and  the 
lions,  the  two  sentences  of  the  dialogue  alone 
suffice.  With  these  firmly  fixed  in  memory, 
the  speaker  knows  that  he  cannot  boggle  his 
story.  Even  when  the  point  seems  a  rather 
complicated  affair,  scrutiny  of  the  story  will 
reveal  the  actual  essentials,  which  are  usually 
few  in  number  and  easily  remembered.  The 
non-essentials,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  may 
be  varied  as  desired.  No  attempt  should  be 
made  to  memorize  these,  since  their  precise 

[43] 


AFTER  DINNER   SPEECHES 

form  is  unimportant  comparatively.  More- 
over, the  necessity  for  a  memorization  will 
soon  pass,  for  after  a  little  experience  in 
story-telling,  it  will  be  found  that  the  point 
itself  is  the  feature  by  which  each  tale  is 
known  in  the  recollection. 

The  practice  in  the  art  should  be  carried 
on  industriously  until  perfect  ease  of  narration 
is  acquired.  This  involves  nothing  more 
difficult  than  the  telling  of  stories  as  frequently 
as  possible.  When  a  story  has  been  selected 
as  being  really  laughable,  it  should  be  ex- 
amined carefully  in  the  manner  indicated 
above,  first,  in  order  to  impress  the  point 
itself  upon  the  memory,  and,  second,  to 
determine  the  significant  features  that  lead 
up  to  the  point.  Next,  there  should  be  an 
attempt  at  telling  the  story  to  one's  self  when 
alone,  speaking  it  aloud  as  if  before  an  audi- 
ence. This  practise  may  be  repeated  as 
often  as  convenience  permits,  until  the  recital 
is  made  smoothly  and  with  certainty.  But 
in  such  repetitions  care  should  be  taken  not 
to  fall  into  a  set  form  of  words,  except  perhaps 

[44] 


TELLING  A  STORY 

in  stating  the  point  itself.  Variations  in  the 
manner  of  phrasing  and  of  the  narration  gen- 
erally afford  capital  discipline  for  facility  in 
speaking,  which  will  prove  very  useful.  Fin- 
ally, the  practise  in  this  same  story  should  be 
extended  to  trying  its  effect  on  other  persons. 
At  the  outset,  it  will  probably  be  advisable 
to  experiment  on  a  single  individual.  This 
has  the  advantage  of  being  less  embarrassing, 
and  also  of  offering  more  opportunity  for 
subsequent  repetitions.  After  it  has  been 
told  to  one  person,  it  should  be  told  again 
to  another,  and  so  on  until  fluency  is  at- 
tained. Then,  a  second  story  should  be 
used  similarly;  first  studied,  second  told  to 
one's  self,  third  to  others.  And  so  on  with 
yet  other  tales  until  narration  is  developed 
into  an  art  equally  agreeable  to  both  the 
speaker  and  his  listeners. 

The  aspirant  to  distinction  as  an  after- 
dinner  speaker  must  not  fail  to  appreciate 
the  importance  to  him  of  ability  as  a  story- 
teller. He  must  remember  what  has  been 
said  heretofore  concerning  his  duty  to  enter- 

[45] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

tain  the  company  he  addresses.  The  story 
that  really  amuses  an  audience  is  the  very 
best  form  of  entertainment.  It  is  one  that 
remains  with  the  hearer,  who  is  able  to  carry 
away  with  him  the  pleasure  he  has  experi- 
enced and  even  to  pass  it  on  to  others  who  were 
not  so  fortunate  as  to  be  present.  The 
veriest  novice  can  succeed  in  his  first  ap- 
pearance as  a  speaker  if  he  does  nothing  more 
than  tell  a  really  good  story,  no  matter  how 
short.  It  will  be  enough  if  he  simply  stands 
up  and  speaks  distinctly  the  few  words  of  the 
story  itself,  and  then  sits  down.  If  the 
humor  is  really  good,  there  will  be  laughter  in 
response,  and  the  novice  will  have  achieved 
a  sufficient  success  in  his  maiden  effort.  I 
have  seen  this  done  more  than  once.  The 
story  being  good,  there  needs  no  application 
of  it,  no  explanation  as  to  why  it  is  told,  or 
what  bearing  it  has  on  the  occasion.  The 
single  requirement  is  the  telling  of  a  story, 
provocative  of  laughter.  The  audience  is  all 
eagerness  to  laugh,  and  welcomes  the  op- 
portunity, and  gives  its  sincere  approval  to 

[46] 


TELLING  A  STORY 

the  teller  of  it.  Of  course,  it  is  more  elegant, 
and  is  expected  of  the  trained  speaker,  that^ 
there  should  be  a  graceful  introduction  and 
a  clever  apphcation,  but  nothing  is  expected 
of  the  novice,  and,  in  consequence,  the  bare 
story  alone  perhaps  astonishes  and  surely 
gratifies  the  listeners.  The  beginner  should 
by  no  means  disdain  this  simple  method  of 
first  facing  an  audience.  It  is  a  vastly  better 
route  to  success  than  the  preparation  of  an 
elaborate  address,  which  will  probably  lack 
pithiness  and  is  likely  to  entangle  him  in 
difficulties  during  the  delivery.  Moreover, 
the  modesty  displayed  in  the  simple  telling 
of  a  short  story  reacts  in  his  favor.  Criticism 
is  disarmed,  which  might  be  provoked  by  a 
more  pretentious  attempt. 

When  the  beginner  has  experimented  with 
a  brief  story  related  before  an  audience,  and 
finds  himself  free  from  any  great  degree  of 
embarrassment  when  speaking,  he  may  safely 
undertake  a  short  introduction  to  the  story, 
carefully  thought  out  in  advance,  but  not 
memorized  as  to  the  wording.    And  he  may 

[47] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

now  exercise  his  ingenuity  in  explaining  very 
briefly  in  just  what  way  the  story  may  be 
appHcable  to  the  occasion  for  the  feast.  In 
these  earUer  efforts,  brevity  should  be  the 
rule.  When  ease  and  fluency  are  attained,  the 
address  may  be  lengthened  slightly,  along 
those  lines  to  be  indicated  in  later  chapters, 
and  made  also  to  include  a  number  of  stories. 
But,  as  fluency  and  eloquence  increase,  con- 
stant restraint  must  be  exercised  to  guard 
against  the  vice  that  so  commonly  accom- 
panies these  virtues  —  talking  too  much. 
That  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit  should  be 
taken  to  heart  by  every  after-dinner  speaker. 


C48] 


Chapter  VI 
PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

IN  the  preparation  of  any  address  designed 
for  an  after-dinner  audience,  the  first 
concern,  of  course,  must  be  the  selection 
of  the  particular  subject  to  be  treated, 
unless  this  shall  have  been  already  assigned 
to  the  speaker  along  with  the  request  for  his 
services.  The  subject,  when  left  to  the  dis- 
cretion of  the  orator  for  his  selection,  must  be 
chosen  with  care,  so  that  it  shall  be  one  in 
harmony  with  the  purposes  of  the  gathering. 
Definite  instruction  as  to  this  feature  cannot 
be  given,  since  the  actual  circumstances  in 
each  case  must  be  carefully  considered.  It 
can  only  be  pointed  out  that  the  theme  must 
be  an  appropriate  one.  Too  often,  indeed,  the 
after-dinner  speaker  in  his  address  suits  his 
own  convenience  or  desires  in  determining  a 
topic,  rather  than  the  preference  of  his  audi- 

C49] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

ence.  The  result  of  such  an  error  is  necessarily 
unpleasant.  The  listeners  remain  listless  at 
the  best,  or  distinctly  annoyed  at  the  worst, 
and  their  mood  reacts  to  the  discrediting  of 
the  orator.  So,  at  the  outset,  the  speaker 
must  see  to  it  that  his  selection  of  a  subject  be 
prudently  made,  that  the  theme  be  one 
certain  to  enlist  the  sympathetic  attention 
of  his  hearers,  that,  in  short,  it  be  pleasing 
to  them,  calculated,  to  entertain.  Some 
further  suggestions^  as  to  the  choosing  of  the 
subject  will  be  given  in  a  later  chapter.  It 
is  enough  for  the  present  to  impress  on  the 
speaker  the  need  of  strict  propriety  to  the 
occasion  in  making  the  selection. 

When  the  topic  has  been  selected,  the  next 
requirement  has  to  do  with  the  form  of  the 
discourse.  It  should  be  divided  into  three 
parts:  the  first,  the  introduction;  the  second, 
the  body;  the  third,  the  conclusion.  The 
task  now  is  to  determine  the  nature  of  the 
opening  remarks.  These  should  be  of  a  grace- 
ful sort,  not  too  serious.  But  care  should 
be    taken   to    avoid   a   conspicuous    lack   of 

[so] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

dignity  here,  which  might  seem  to  reflect 
unfavorably  on  the  importance  of  the  gather- 
ing. The  introduction  ,fhay  be  merely  a  few 
words  of  agreeable  compliment  to  the  com- 
pany, or  a  brief  reference  to  the  cause  of  this 
assembly,  or  both.  Then  should  follow  a 
statement  of  the  subject  selected  for  the 
address,  and  a  simple  straightforward  explana- 
tion of  why  it  was  chosen.  The  speaker  here 
merely  recites  tersely  the  reasons  that  in- 
fluenced him  to  decide  on  the  topic.  Or,  in 
this  same  connection,  if  the  subject  was  as- 
signed to  him  instead  of  being  left  to  his 
discretion,  he  may  summarize  what  he  be- 
lieves to  be  the  reasons  that  determined  the 
choice.  All  of  this  preliminary  matter,  it 
must  be  remembered,  is  to  be  very  short. 
There  must  be  no  dawdling  over  the  intro- 
duction. There  should  be  only  a  few  ideas, 
and  these  should  be  expressed  in  the  most 
straightforward  fashion  possible.  The  phras- 
ing should  be  as  smooth  as  the  speaker's 
ability  permits,  but  it  should  be  plain,  rather 
than  ornate,  and  there  should  be  no  juggling 

Csi] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

of  words  by  which  a  single  idea  is  repeated 
from  two  to  half-a-dozen  times. 

Next,  the  speaker  in  his  preparation  must 
concentrate  on  the  body  or  principal  part  of  / 
the  address.  Here,  again,  no  specific  teach- 
ing is  available,  since  the  particular  circum- 
stances of  the  occasion  must  affect  the  treat- 
ment vitally.  It  suffices  to  say  that  brevity 
must  still  remain  the  chief  virtue.  The 
theme  may  properly  admit  of  serious  treat- 
ment, or  of  sentimental,  but  the  speaker  must 
exercise  a  judicious  restraint,  else  he  will 
weary  his  audience.  The  formal  designation 
of  this  part  as  the  body  of  the  address  must 
not  be  allowed  to  mislead.  The  body,  in 
fact,  may  be  a  very  tiny  one.  It  may  be 
expedient  to  limit  this  portion  to  only  a  few 
carefully  considered  sentences.  For  it  must 
be  remembered  that  the  aim  of  the  speaker 
is  to  entertain,  to  divert,  rather  than  to  in- 
struct or  to  edify.  Therefore,  he  must  con- 
tract to  the  utmost  that  part  of  his  speech 
which  is  out  of  character  with  the  main  pur- 
pose.    The  serious  note,  so  to  speak,  must 

C5*] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

be  sounded  very  lightly.  But,  thus  sounded, 
it  serves  excellently  by  way  of  contrast  in 
preparation  for  the  amusing  sequel. 

This  sequel  is  the  story,  and  should,  most 
emphatically,,,,  b^  anMsmgr*  Technically,  the 
story  forms  the  conclusion  of  the  address, 
following  the  body.  But,  if  we  were  to  ana- 
lyze the  speech  according  to  values,  the 
conclusion  —  the  story  —  would  prove  to  be 
the  actual  body  of  the  discourse.  Here, 
beyond  any  question,  the  tail  wags  the  dog, 
and  the  better  the  tale,  the  bigger  the  wag. 

The  story  itself  should  be  introduced  by 
a  few  words  suggesting  the  manner  in  which 
it  is  applicable  to  the  speaker's  topic.  But 
care  is  to  be  exercised  not  to  reveal  or  even 
suggest  the  point  of  the  story  in  thus  intro- 
ducing it.  The  telling  of  the  story  itself 
should  be  made  as  effective  as  possible.  The 
narrative  must  be  shorter  or  longer  according 
to  the  ability  of  the  speaker  to  make  it 
humorous  throughout.  If  he  has  the  art 
to  make  it  truly  diverting  sentence  by  sen- 
tence as  he  proceeds,  he  may  expand  a  brief 

[53  3 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

incident  into  a  considerable  narrative,  and 
make  the  telling  as  a  whole  laughable  and 
enjoyable.  Indeed,  the  practise  in  story- 
telling as  previously  outlined  has  for  its  pur- 
pose the  acquirement  of  such  art  on  the  part 
of  the  speaker.  His  ideal  should  be  not  only 
to  tell  a  good  story,  but  so  to  relate  the  story 
as  to  make  its  every  word  effective.  The  be- 
ginner must  limit  himself  to  essentials.  But 
with  increased  proficiency  in  speaking  and 
especially  with  developed  facility  in  humorous 
expression,  the  speaker  is  free  to  fill  out  the 
story  according  to  his  will.  The  only  condi- 
tion imposed  is  that  all  the  padding  be  in 
itself  of  a  sort  to  entertain  and  amuse  the 
audience.  For  example,  in  the  tale  of  the 
Lady  and  the  Lions  the  novice  must  limit 
his  account  to  the  essentials,  in  the  manner 
already  pointed  out  in  reference  to  this  story. 
But  the  speaker,  who  is  sure  of  himself  and 
his  art,  is  not  so  restricted.  He  is  at  liberty 
to  enlarge  the  narrative  to  any  extent  of 
which  he  is  capable,  so  long  as  his  account 
is  of  an  amusing  sort.     He  may  describe  the 

1154] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

old  lady,  what  she  wears,  her  way  of  looking 
at  the  lions,  her  life  at  home,  her  years  of  toil 
in  catering  in  the  kitchen  to  the  voracity  of 
men.  Or  he  may  devote  himself  to  a  whimsi- 
cal account  of  the  life  of  a  keeper,  who  finds 
among  the  wild  beasts  of  the  menagerie  a 
tranquility  denied  him  at  home  by  wife  and 
rolling  pin.  Or  he  may  make  a  passing  refer- 
ence to  the  lions  themselves,  declaring  that  this 
animal  won  its  proud  position  as  king  of  the 
beasts  by  its  ability  to  roar  louder  than  any 
other  creature,  which  is  in  line  with  a  method 
of  attaining  greatness  much  in  vogue  also 
among  mankind.  In  fine,  the  speaker  may 
indulge  at  will  his  wit  and  humor,  if  these  be 
genuine. 

The  outline  given  above  is  for  the  simplest 
form  of  an  address.  But  the  principles  gov- 
erning this  construction  are  to  be  maintained 
in  a  more  complex  discourse.  Thus,  after 
the  introduction  in  the  manner  already  de- 
scribed, the  body  of  the  address  may  be  divided 
up  into  two  or  more  brief  portions.  In  such 
case,  each  section  should  be  followed  by  a 

[55] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

conclusion,  which  is  the  funny  story.  The 
effect  is,  of  course,  to  make  the  address  more 
pretentious  and  of  greater  length,  because  a 
number  of  stories  are  told  instead  of  the  one. 
Ordinarily,  this  is  the  method  to  be  followed. 
It  is  to  be  noted,  however,  that  the  serious  or 
sentimental  portions  thus  separated  by  the 
stories  are  to  be  held  to  a  rigid  brevity.  The 
speaker  must  never  forget  that  his  highest 
achievement  is  the  diverting  of  his  audience 
by  excellence  in  his  array  of  wit  and  humor 
before  them.  With  this  consciousness  al- 
ways maintained,  he  is  able  to  secure  the  best 
possible  effect.  The  period  that  follows  the 
laughter  provoked  by  a  story  is  used  for  a 
crisp  statement  of  the  graver  sort,  and  after- 
ward another  story  is  presented.  The  al- 
ternations serve  each  to  emphasize  the  effect 
of  the  other.  But  the  note  of  mirth  must 
be  always  dominant. 

It  seems  fitting  at  this  point  to  offer  a  word 
of  advice  to  the  speaker  anent  the  advantages 
sometimes  of  bringing  his  address  to  an  un- 
expectedly abrupt  end.    This  course  is  ex- 

[56] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

pedient  when  some  particular  story  is  greeted 
with  an  excessive  outburst  of  merriment  on 
the  part  of  the  audience.  Naturally,  when  a 
number  of  tales  are  included  in  the  speech, 
it  is  intended  to  arrange  them  in  the  order 
of  comparative  merit,  with  the  best  for  the  last. 
Of  course,  none  that  is  without  distinctly 
amusing  qualities  is  to  be  employed,  but,  even 
so,  some  are  sure  to  excite  more  laughter  by 
the  hearers  than  do  others.  Therefore,  the 
speaker  plans  carefully  so  to  place  them  as  to 
make  the  various  narratives  increasingly  ef- 
fective. Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  judicious 
carefulness  in  this  regard,  it  sometimes  hap- 
pens that  one  of  the  earlier  stories  in  a  series 
arouses  most  enthusiastic  applause  and 
laughter.  My  advice  is  that  when  such  a 
spontaneous  success  is  achieved,  he  should 
accept  it  as  a  direct  providence,  and  then  and 
there  sit  down.  It  is  altogether  improbable 
that  any  of  the  subsequent  stories  would  make 
an  equal  or  superior  hit.  To  continue,  al- 
most inevitably,  would  involve  an  anticlimax, 
which    is    always    injurious    to    an    orator's 

CS7] 


.AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

prestige.  It  may,  and  doubtless  will,  seem  a 
bitter  hardship  to  the  speaker  to  forego  utter- 
ance of  those  other  gems  of  sentiment  and 
humor  so  artfully  prepared.  But,  if  he  be 
wise,  he  will  forget  his  pride  in  these  to 
rejoice  in  the  impression  he  has  already 
created  on  the  company.  Often,  some  cir- 
cumstance wholly  unknown  to  the  speaker 
may  influence  the  situation  and  score  for 
him  an  advantage  that  he  could  not  foresee. 

Out  of  my  own  experience,  I  am  able  to 
give  a  capital  illustration  of  how  chance  may 
interfere  in  a  speaker's  behalf  to  gain  an 
effect  beyond  his  wildest  hopes.  I  was  called 
on  to  deliver  an  address  after  a  fraternity 
banquet  at  the  university.  There  had  been 
a  hotly  contested  foot-ball  match  that  after- 
noon between  the  University  and  a  rival  in- 
stitution in  which  the  University  won.  I 
was  aware  of  this  fact,  of  course,  but  as  the 
sequel  will  show  I  was  by  no  means  aware  of 
certain  vital  facts  relating  to  the  victory. 
I  had  perhaps  six  or  eight  anedcotes  grouped 
mentally  when  I   rose  to  speak,  with    the 

[58] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

necessary  plausible  excuses  for  stringing  them 
together.  Also,  the  arrangement  of  the  stories 
had  been  carefully  considered  by  me,  so  that 
each  in  turn  should  appear  more  meritorious 
than  its  predecessor. 

i  There  was  applause  enough  to  satisfy  me 
for  the  first  anecdote  and  for  the  second.  I 
then  related  the  third.  It  had  to  do  with  a 
christening.  On  the  way  to  the  church,  the 
milk  escaped  from  the  baby's  bottle,  and 
made  a  frightful  mess  of  the  christening  robe. 
The  mother  was  in  despair  but  there  was 
no  time  to  remedy  the  calamity.  It  was 
with  shamed  embarrassment  that  she  placed 
her  offspring  in  the  arms  of  the  young  clergy- 
man who  officiated  at  the  font.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  curate  had  troubles  of  his  own  that 
rendered  him  almost,  if  not  quite  oblivious 
to  the  bedraggled  condition  of  the  infant. 
It  was  his  first  baptismal  service,  and  it  was 
all  very  trying  to  his  piety,  especially  the 
holding  of  the  babe  securely  within  the  clutch 
of  one  arm  and  hand  as  required  by  the 
ritual  in  order  that  the  other  hand  might  be 

[593 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

free  for  dipping  and  sprinkling  the  water. 
He  stumbled  somehow  through  the  pre- 
liminary portion  of  the  service.  Then,  as 
he  clutched  the  child  fiercely  with  the  one 
arm,  he  whispered  to  the  mother: 

"What  name?" 

She,  good  soul,  was  in  an  agony  of  dis- 
comfort over  the  baby's  disreputable  condi- 
tion. Since  that  occupied  her  thoughts  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  else,  she  failed  utterly  to 
understand  the  whisper,  and  supposed  that 
the  clergyman  was  protesting  against  the  de- 
plorable untidiness  of  her  progeny.  She  hur- 
ried to  whisper  an  excuse  —  an  explanation: 

"Nozzle  come  off!    Nozzle  come  off!'* 

"What?"   demanded   the    puzzled   curate. 

And  again  the  distracted  mother  whispered 
desperately: 

"Nozzle  come  off!    Nozzle  come  off!" 

There  was  no  time  for  further  investigation. 
So  as  he  dipped  his  fingers  Into  the  water,  he 
spoke  aloud  with  a  sonorous  fervor  that  filled 
all  the  place,  and  eke  astonished  all  the  con- 
gregation : 

[60] 


PREPARATION  OF  AN  ADDRESS 

"Nozzlecomeoff  Snyder,  1  baptize  thee  in 
the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

There  was  a  riot.  I  had  thought  on  the 
instant,  pandemonium  broke  loose.  The  air 
was  filled  with  shouts  and  cheers.  Through 
the  din,  I  could  make  out  many  voices  crying: 
"Nozzlecome  off  Snyder!"  I  sat  down.  I  did 
not  understand  just  what  had  happened,  but 
whatever  it  was  it  had  happened,  and  this  was 
no  time  for  further  speechmaking.  The  boys 
were  on  their  feet  now,  weaving  and  milling 
about  the  room.  The  older  alumni  were 
shaking  with  the  laughter  in  their  chairs  and 
roaring  approval.  The  yelling  became  rhyth- 
mic, and  the  burden  of  it  was,  "Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder!"  .  .  .  My  own  name  sounded  with 
cheers.  But  the  great  paean  was,  *'Nozzle- 
comeoff  Snyder!" 

I    had    made    a    hit  —  a    stupendous     hit. 

There  was  not  a  doubt  of  it.     The  ending 

of  my  speech,  to  me  so  utterly  unexpected, 

was  a  most  magnificent  triumph.     As  to  the 

why  of  it,  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea.     Then, 

[61] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

presently,  I  saw  a  husky  lad  borne  aloft  on 
the  shoulders  of  his  fellows,  who  danced  in 
serpentine  to  the  measure  of  a  weird  chant: 
"Nozzlecomeoff  Snyder!  Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder!" 

Little  by  little,  understanding  dawned  on 
my  bemused  wits.  Pure  chance  had  thus 
glorified  my  effort  to  entertain.  Perhaps  I 
sighed  secretly  over  those  excellent  stories 
that  would  remain  untold.  But  I  thanked 
my  lucky  stars  for  the  accident  that  had  led 
me  to  make  Snyder  the  family  name  of  the 
mussed-up  infant.  And,  though  1  had  not 
known  the  fact,  it  was  Snyder  who,  that 
afternoon  by  a  tremendous  run,  had  won  the 
match  for  the  university  —  Snyder,  of  our 
fraternity,  now  grinning  sheepishly  at  me 
from  his  position  on  the  shoulders  of  his 
fellows.  .  .  .  And  the  absurd  nickname  stuck. 
To  his  intimates,  he  is  still  Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder  to-day. 


[62] 


Chapter  VII 
MENTAL  MEMORANDA 

IT  is  important  to  the  speaker  that  he 
should  be  free  from  any  possibihty  of 
forgetting  the  various  heads  for  his  dis- 
course, whether  this  be  long  or  short. 
But  he  should  not  permit  himself  any  depend- 
ence on  written  notes  during  the  time  of  his 
appearance  before  an  audience.  He  may 
make  use  of  pencil  and  paper  at  will  in  the 
preparation  of  his  remarks,  but  his  reliance 
on  the  written  word  must  cease  when  the  task 
of  preparation  is  ended.  It  is  all  very  well 
for  a  clergyman  to  have  recourse  to  written 
notes  while  speaking  from  the  pulpit,  or  even 
to  read  his  entire  sermon,  since  such  evidence 
of  serious  preparation  for  the  occasion  is 
befitting  the  gravity  of  time  and  place.  It 
is  quite   otherwise  with  the   speaker  whose 

[63  ] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

appearance  follows  the  hour  of  feasting.  Here, 
the  atmosphere  is  one  of  good-will  and  jollity, 
and  any  sign  of  actual  effort  on  the  speaker's 
part  stands  out  conspicuously  in  opposition 
to  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  gathering.  kThe 
moment  that  written  memoranda  are  con- 
sulted, the  act  operates  to  antagonize  the 
seeming  spontaneity  that  should  characterize 
the  undertaking  of  the  speaker.  No  matter 
how  elaborate  may  have  been  the  study 
privately  given  by  him  in  advance  to  the 
elaboration  of  his  remarks,  to  the  contriving 
of  witty  sallies  and  humorous  illustrations, 
there  must  be  no  trace  of  this  serious  work  in 
the  sprightliness  of  the  finished  product. 
The  use  of  notes  presents  undeniable  proofs 
of  a  laborious  getting  ready  for  the  task,  and 
completely  dispels  the  pleasing  illusion  on  the 
part  of  the  audience  as  to  the  extemporaneous 
character  of  the  speaker's  eloquence. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  mental  notes  that  are 
thoroughly  dependable  are  readily  made. 
With  a  little  practise,  the  employment  of 
them  becomes  more  convenient  and  simpler 

•  [64] 


MENTAL  MEMORANDA 

than    reliance    on    the   written  memoranda. 
The  method  is,  briefly,  as  follows: 

It  is  a  law  of  the  mind  in  the  operation  of 
memory  that  the  concrete  is  preferred  to  the 
abstract.  There  is  vagueness  in  abstract 
ideas,  which  renders  them  difficult  to  fix  and 
distinguish  in  the  recollection;  while  the 
concrete  object  is  something  exact,  of  which 
the  mental  impression  is  sharply  outlined. 
Ordinarily,  the  chief  agent  in  memory  is 
visualization.  The  mind  fashions  a  picture, 
and  this  picture  of  the  thing  to  be  remembered 
is  stored  away,  to  be  reproduced  as  demanded 
by  recollection.  The  abstract  idea  cannot, 
of  course,  be  pictured  in  the  mind,  and  for 
that  reason  the  memory  of  abstractions  is 
difficult;  but  the  escape  from  a  dilemma  here 
is  easy  enough.  It  is  necessary  only  to  sub- 
stitute something  concrete  that  shall  serv^e  as 
the  representative  of  any  abstraction  it  is 
required  to  recall  at  will.  This  device  is  well 
adapted  to  fulfill  the  requirements  of  the 
speaker  in  memorizing  the  various  ideas  of 

an  address.     There  is  always  something  that 

[65] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

will  suffice  as  a  material  symbol  of  an  imma- 
terial idea.  Something  that  when  recalled 
will  inevitably  bring  with  it  ample  suggestion 
of  the  desired  thought.  Thus,  a  mental 
picture  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington  would 
serve  as  a  concrete  memory  to  recall  the 
subject  of  the  government  of  the  United 
States.  The  Capitol  building  is  a  definite 
thing,  and  as  such  capable  of  being  pictured 
by  the  brain.  The  Government  of  the  United 
States,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  abstract  idea, 
of  which  no  picture  can  be  formed  in  the 
mind.  But  the  association  of  ideas  operates 
under  another  law  of  memory,  so  that  in  such 
an  instance  the  concrete  object,  which  is  so 
intimately  associated  with  the  idea,  becomes 
an  efficient  symbol  of  that  idea,  and  its 
presence  in  the  memory  carries  with  it 
memory  also  of  the  abstraction.  If  the 
speaker  has  as  one  of  the  heads  in  his  address 
the  Government  of  the  United  States,  the 
mental  picture  of  the  Capitol  is  an  ample 
guarantee  for  recollection  of  the  subject. 

In  the  formation  of  the  mental   pictures 

[66] 


MENTAL  MEMORANDA 

necessary  in  this  method,  care  must  be  taken 
to  concentrate  on  each  one.  An  effort  must 
be  made  to  shut  everything  else  out  of  con- 
sciousness for  a  few  moments,  while  the  at- 
tention is  wholly  fixed  on  the  particular  con- 
crete object  to  be  remembered.  The  greater 
the  concentration,  the  stronger  the  memory. 
Such  concentration  is,  indeed,  the  chief  factor 
in  memory.  It  may  be  forced  by  outward 
circumstances,  as  where  some  scene  of  fright- 
ful peril  in  a  person's  experience  is  indelibly 
engraved  in  remembrance.  Or  the  concen- 
tration may  come  from  joyous  interest,  and 
establish  a  recollection  almost  equally  per- 
manent. But,  too,  the  concentration  should 
be  subject  to  the  control  of  the  will,  and  it  is 
so  uniformly  in  the  person  of  good  memory. 
Any  speaker  who  finds  his  ability  to  remember 
too  tricky  for  dependence,  may  be  sure  that 
the  fault  lies  in  a  lack  of  concentration.  This 
lack  must  be  corrected.  The  task  is  not 
too  difficult,  and  the  rewards  make  the  labor 
involved  well  worth  while. 

In  the  use  of  the   concrete  symbols,  their 

C67] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

orderly  arrangement  in  the  memory  is  secured 
by  subjecting  them  to  the  mental  law  con- 
cerning the  association  of  ideas.  Let  us  sup- 
pose, for  example,  that  a  speaker  at  a  civic 
banquet  wishes  to  refer  to  the  thriving  con- 
dition of  the  schools,  the  churches,  the  in- 
dustries, and  to  the  patriotic  response  of  the 
city  under  the  demands  of  war,  along  with  a 
humorous  story  for  the  finish.  He  must 
select  a  concrete  object  as  the  symbol  for 
each  idea.  Obviously,  a  school  house  with 
the  children  issuing  gives  a  sufficient  picture 
to  suggest  the  topic  of  the  schools,  and  simi- 
larly, a  church  and  a  mill  properly  represent 
the  churches  and  the  industries.  The  pa- 
triotic zeal  of  the  town  may  be  symbolized 
by  a  soldier  in  uniform.  It  should  be  noted 
that  the  various  pictures  are  to  be  made  as 
real  as  possible  in  the  mental  impression.  It  is 
here  that  concentration  is  especially  import- 
ant in  order  to  obtain  an  exact  effect.  Finally, 
there  must  be  the  choosing  of  a  concrete  sym- 
bol that  shall  inevitably  bring  to  mind  the 

amusing  anecdote.     By  way  of  example,  let 

[68] 


MENTAL  MEMORANDA 

us  imagine  that  the  speaker  concludes  his 
tribute  to  the  city  by  a  word  of  appreciation 
or  regret  over  the  presence  or  absence,  as  the 
case  may  be,  of  gondolas  on  the  artificial 
water  in  the  park.  His  memory  of  this  point 
will  be  adequately  supplied  by  the  mental 
picture  of  a  gondola.  When  he  reaches  this 
place  in  his  speech,  he  will  by  some  such  refer- 
ence introduce  his  story  told  good-naturedly 
at  the  expense  of  the  local  board  of  aldermen, 
somewhat  after  this  style : 

When  the  subject  of  park  improvements 
was  debated,  Alderman  Meeks  urged  the 
purchase  of  a  dozen  gondolas  to  be  placed 
in  the  lake.  Alderman  Rafferty  spoke  in 
hearty  support  of  the  project,  but  suggested 
an  amendment,  in  the  interests  of  economy. 

"For  why,"  he  concluded  earnestly,  "should 
we  be  at  the  expinse  of  buyin'  an  intire  dozen 
of  gondolas?  Would  it  not  be  betther,  now 
Oi  ax  ye,  to  buy  a  pair,  a  male  an'  a  female, 
an'  to  let  nature  take  its  coorse?" 

For  the  purposes  of  memorization  in  this 
instance,  the  speaker  now  has  five  concrete 

[69: 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

objects.  It  next  becomes  necessary  for  him 
to  establish  a  memory  of  these  in  their  order. 
It  is  now  that  he  is  to  employ  the  association 
of  ideas  in  connection  with  the  mental  pic- 
turing. The  first  topic  is  the  schools,  which 
is  represented  by  the  photograph  in  the  brain 
of  a  schoolhouse  with  the  children  issuing  from 
it.  The  next  topic  is  that  of  the  churches  for 
which  a  church  building  stands  as  the  symbol. 
These  two  pictures  are  to  be  brought  together. 
With  the  eyes  shut,  there  must  be  concentra- 
tion on  the  schoolhouse  scene  and  at  the  same 
time  on  a  church  standing  at  the  right  side 
of  the  school.  These  two  buildings  in  con- 
junction must  be  seen  distinctly.  It  will  be 
found  that  afterward  recollection  of  the  school 
will  bring  with  it  recollection  of  the  church. 
The  appearance  of  either  picture  in  the  mind 
will  involve  the  appearance  beside  it  of  the 
other.  When  the  first  two  symbols  have 
been  thus  paired,  the  symbols  for  the  second 
and  third  topics  of  the  speech  must  be  simi- 
larly presented  in  association  within  the  mind. 
The  new  picture  shows  nothing  of  the  school, 

[70] 


MENTAL  MEMORANDA 

but  the  church  is  again  present  and  on  its 
right  in  the  mental  picture  stands  the  mill, 
which  typifies  the  industries  of  the  town. 
Next,  this  mill  and  the  soldier  in  uniform  are 
joined  as  subjects  for  the  brain's  concentra- 
tion. The  last  pair  includes  the  soldier  and 
the  gondola.  If  such  pairing  of  the  symbols 
and  concentration  on  the  successive  pairs  is 
properly  done,  there  can  be  no  failure  of  the 
memory.  Instantly,  at  thought  of  the  school- 
house,  the  church  also  appears.  As  the  school 
is  shut  from  the  picture,  the  mill  appears  to 
the  right  of  the  church.  In  like  fashion,  the 
soldier  tags  after  the  mill.  When  the  mill 
vanishes,  the  gondola  comes  to  accompany  the 
man  in  uniform. 

This  system  of  arranging  the  symbols  in 
order  may  be  employed  for  any  number  of 
topics.  It  is  necessary  only  first  to  determine 
the  choice  of  a  concrete  object  that  shall 
clearly  suggest  the  topic,  and  then,  second,  to 
concentrate  on  the  paired  symbols,  in  the 
manner  indicated  above,  whatever  may  be 
their  number. 

[71] 


Chapter  VIII 
AN  HISTORICAL  ADDRESS 

LET  us,  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating 
further  the  principles  already  ex- 
plained, consider  the  case  of  a 
speaker  who  has  been  designated 
to  deliver  an  address  at  a  banquet  commem- 
orating an  important  historical  event.  Assume 
that  the  occasion  is  a  celebration  of  Colum- 
bus Day,  and  that  to  the  speaker  has  been 
assigned  a  particular  subject,  for  example, 
"Our  Country."  He  is  now  to  prepare  an 
outline  of  his  address. 

In  the  first  place,  the  speaker  is  to  hold 
firmly  in  mind  that  his  duty  is  to  entertain, 
rather  than  to  parade  learning,  to  teach,  or 
otherwise  to  edify  his  hearers.  He  may 
be  sure,  also,  that  other  speakers  of  the 
evening  will  provide  more  than  a  sufficiency 
of  serious  speeches  with  depressing  effect.     He 

[72] 


AN  HISTORICAL  ADDRESS 

himself  will  not  be  guilty  of  the  like  fault. 
But  he  is  confronted  with  a  subject  of  high 
dignity,  one  naturally  suggesting  a  treatment 
earnest  and  profound,  a  display  of  the  noblest 
eloquence.  Nevertheless,  the  speaker  must 
deny  the  lure  of  this  lofty  theme,  and  by  an 
effort  of  ingenuity  so  contrived  that  it  shall 
serve  as  a  pretext  for  the  amusing  discourse 
he  meditates.  The  result  of  such  resolve 
might  be  something  like  the  following: 

After  addressing  the  presiding  officer  by 
his  title  for  the  occasion,  whatever  it  may  be, 
and  the  company,  the  speaker  may  proceed: 

"I  had  prepared  some  v/eighty  reflections 
on  'Our  Country'  —  without  meaning  any 
reflections  on  our  country.  But  most  of  the 
things  I  had  meant  to  say  have  already  been 
said  by  the  speakers  before  me,  or  soon  will 
be  by  the  others  to  follow,  I  suspect.  I  have, 
however,  one  quite  important  thought  left  to 
me,  which  I  shall  now  mention.  It  has  to  do 
with  the  very  interesting  fact  that  eggs  is,  or 
maybe  are,  eggs.  Yet,  what  a  difference! 
For,  as  everybody  knows,  eggs  are  either  good 

[73] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

or  bad.  On  rare  occasions,  they  are  better; 
usually,  they  are  worse.  But,  while  this 
truth  is  familiar  to  all,  most  persons  fail  to 
appreciate  eggs  in  their  higher  aspects.  It  is 
my  purpose  to  show  how  eggs  may  be  signifi- 
cant historically.  I  propose  to  offer  an  egg 
as  a  symbol  to  indicate  the  greatness  of  our 
country  in  its  humor.  Its  value  thus  is  em- 
phasized by  contrast  with  the  egg  of  Colum- 
bus. Columbus,  when  no  other  could  balance 
the  egg  on  its  small  end,  achieved  success  by 
smashing  the  shell  into  a  flat  base.  At  once, 
the  egg  became  famous.  It  appears  through- 
out subsequent  history  as  an  illustration  of 
smashing  efficiency.  I  desire  to  offer  as  a 
rival  for  its  fame  another  egg,  an  American 
egg,  a  humorous  egg.  There  was  nothing 
funny  about  Columbus  and  his  egg,  but  Bill 
Nye's  egg  was  the  very  dickens. 

"First  of  all,  we  must  note  the  fact  that 
Nye's  egg  wasn't  really  an  egg:  it  was  his 
head.  Everybody  knows  that  the  great 
humorist  was  bald.  Not  only  so,  he  was  bald 
as  an  egg.     People  told  him  so,  and,  anyhow, 

[74] 


AN   HISTORICAL  ADDRESS 

he  knew  it  himself.  The  baldness  on  the 
outside  of  his  head  preyed  on  the  inside  of  it, 
and  to  be  rid  of  that  trouble  he  concocted  a 
story,  probably  on  the  theory  that  open  con- 
fession soothes  grief.  The  tale  was  to  this 
effect : 

"Once,  in  the  midst  of  an  African  desert. 
Bill  Nye  was  captured  by  horrible  savages. 
They  were  not  Cannibals,  or,  if  so,  they  were 
finicky  about  bald  humorist,  who  probably 
would  make  tough  eating.  Anyhow,  they 
did  not  wound  or  slay  their  victim:  they 
merely  buried  him  in  the  sand  to  the  neck, 
and  left  him  alone  with  his  thoughts. 

**For  two  days,  that  hapless  bald  pate 
cooked  under  the  torrid  rays  of  the  African 
sun.  The  contents  became  addled  which 
perhaps  was  just  as  well  in  view  of  the  event 
that  next  occurred. 

"A  female  ostrich  came  out  of  the  horizon, 
and  since  there  was  nothing  else  to  see  she 
at  once  espied  the  glistening  cranium  showing 
above  the  sand.  She  galloped  toward  it  joy- 
ously, thrilled  by  a  maternal  instinct.     'My 

[75] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

long-lost  egg!*  she  clucked.  She  sprinted, 
she  arrived,  she  squatted  —  in  fact,  she  set 
herself  to  set.  The  man  was  powerless  to 
resist  the  mistaken  efforts  of  the  motherly 
creature.  His  position  was  humiliating,  but 
the  shade  was  welcome. 

"I  am  not  just  certain  concerning  the 
period  of  incubation  for  ostrich  eggs.  But, 
whatever  that  period  may  be,  we  may  believe 
that  this  faithful  bird  observed  it  scrupulously. 
At  due  intervals,  under  the  impulse  of  that 
wonderful  force  called  instinct,  she  stood  up 
and  clawed  industriously  at  the  bald  head, 
to  insure  an  even  development  of  the  chick. 
When,  at  last,  the  time  limit  was  reached,  the 
ostrich,  with  motherly  eagerness,  scratched 
and  pecked  at  the  hairless  skull  in  a  manner 
truly  unpleasant.  But  Nye  concentrated  all 
his  remaining  energies  in  a  desperate  resist- 
ance, and  refused  to  hatch. 

**The  humorist  concluded  the  narrative 
abruptly  by  declaring: 

*'*And  from  that  day  to  this  I  have  never 
dared  to  look  a  hen  in  the  face!'" 

[76] 


AN  HISTORICAL  ADDRESS 

Now,  undeniably,  this  brief  form  of  address 
contains  nothing  save  the  veriest  nonsense. 
But  such  nonsense,  uttered  with  a  certain 
whimsicaUty  of  manner,  is  well  calculated  to 
afford  highly  appreciated  relief  to  an  audience 
a  trifle  wearied  by  more  learned  and  weightier 
discourses.  The  effect  will  be  that  the  speaker 
is  remembered  with  pleasure  as  one  who  con- 
tributed genuine  entertainment  to  the  occa- 
sion. In  fine,  the  effect  will  be  to  enhance 
the  speaker's  reputation  in  the  way  he  most 
desires,  as  that  of  one  who  has  the  ability  to 
speak  lightly,  gracefully  and  amusingly  on 
any  subject,  before  any  gathering. 


In'] 


Chapter  IX 
ILLUSTRATIVE  ANECDOTES 

IT  has  already  been  made  sufficiently  clear 
that  the  chief  aim  of  the  after-dinner 
speaker  should  be  to  entertain  the  com- 
pany, and  that  such  entertainment  should 
find  its  main  reliance  in  the  wit  and  humor  of 
the  address.  This  fact  must  never  be  lost 
sight  of.  The  speaker  is  constantly  in  danger 
of  being  too  serious  in  his  remarks.  Often, 
the  occasion  itself  is  such  as  to  encourage  the 
parade  of  heavy  utterances  by  the  orator. 
This  is  especially  the  case  on  anniversaries,  or 
whenever  an  historical  interest  is  attached  to 
the  occasion.  The  tendency  then  is  to  dis- 
course at  length  on  the  particular  event  com- 
memorated, to  discuss  the  significance  of  it, 
and  to  draw  from  it  such  lessons  as  it  may 
offer.     But  this  tendency  should  be  resisted 

[78] 


ILLUSTRATIVE  ANECDOTES 

by  the  speaker  who  desires  to  attain  a  reputa- 
tion for  particular  ability  in  the  art  of  after- 
dinner  oratory.  There  are  always  those  who 
exploit  the  serious  phases  of  any  occasion, 
and  indeed  they  are  so  numerous  as  often  to 
make  tedious  the  gatherings  at  which  they  are 
present.  In  consequence,  the  speaker  in 
lighter  vein  readily  achieves  a  very  real  dis- 
tinction, an  honorable  fame  for  the  unfailing 
merit  of  his  addresses.  It  is  recommended, 
therefore,  that  the  humorous  contents  of  the 
speech  be  the  deep  concern  always  in  its 
preparation.  This  by  no  means  forbids  the 
most  graceful  eloquence,  or  the  presentation 
of  the  most  brilliant  thoughts  of  the  graver 
sort,  but  it  insists  that  the  entertaining  quality 
which  provokes  smiles  and  laughter  be  the 
principal  feature  in  every  instance.  Thus, 
on  an  anniversary,  the  speaker  may  properly 
briefly  sketch  the  event  commemorated,  and 
make  clear  some  aspect  of  its  meaning.  When 
a  person  is  the  principal  speaker,  it  becomes 
fitting  that  he  should  give  a  larger  attention 
to  this  serious  portion  of  the  speech.     Dis- 

[79] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

cretion  in  this  regard  must  be  employed,  ac- 
cording to  the  particular  circumstances.  Even 
so,  however,  the  wit  and  humor  are  by  no 
means  to  be  neglected.  Yet,  the  after-dinner 
speech,  it  must  be  remembered,  is  in  a  class 
by  itself.  In  considering  it,  we  should  not  be 
led  astray  by  confounding  it  with  the  graver 
forms  of  oratory.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  the 
two  varieties  of  speech-making  must  be  inter- 
mingled in  a  single  address  as  in  the  case  to 
which  reference  has  just  been  made.  Never- 
theless, the  after-dinner  speaker  must  reso- 
lutely resist  the  temptation  to  become  ora- 
torical in  the  heavier  sense  of  the  word.  Nor 
must  he  belittle  the  honor  to  be  attained  in 
his  own  field.  He  can  be  entertaining  with 
no  loss  of  dignity,  and  by  his  skill  he  may  win 
an  enviable  reputation,  of  which  any  man 
might  well  be  proud.  Moreover,  he  may  find 
a  very  real  happiness  in  the  consciousness 
that  his  efforts  give  happiness  to  others.  To 
please  and  divert  a  body  of  hearers  and  to  send 
them  away  with  enduring  memories  of  en- 
joyment is  surely  no  ignoble  task.    It  con- 

[So] 


ILLUSTRATIVE  ANECDOTES 

trasts  to  great  advantage  against  the  weariness 
engendered  by  many  a  graver  orator. 

Always,  the  preparation  by  the  speaker 
must  devise  some  ingenious  expedient  for  the 
introduction  of  the  story  or  stories.  He  must 
contrive  to  emphasize  an  aspect  of  his  subject 
that  may  be  logically  related  to  the  anecdote. 
This  matter  of  the  application  is,  in  fact,  his 
justification  for  the  entertaining  narrative.  It 
requires,  sometimes,  careful  consideration  to 
discover  in  just  what  manner  a  preferred  story 
may  be  related  to  a  certain  subject,  with 
which  it  has  no  apparent  connection.  But 
practise  in  this  regard  will  develop  speedily  a 
fair  degree  of  facility,  and  this,  in  turn,  will 
grow  into  a  resourcefulness  by  which  the 
speaker  becomes  competent  to  take  any  good 
story  and  adapt  it  to  the  exigencies  of  any 
subject  as  required.  Thus,  the  use  of  the 
name  Snyder  made  the  anecdote  of  a  christen- 
ing hilariously  applicable  to  the  circumstances 
of  a  football  triumph,  though  pure  chance  here 
did  the  work  of  adaptation. 

Of  course,  there  are  often  stories  that  of 

[8i] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

themselves  are  suitable  especially  to  certain 
occasions,  so  that  no  ingenuity  is  required  in 
establishing  their  appropriateness.  The  fol- 
lowing are  examples  of  anecdotes  in  which  the 
applicability  is  obvious. 

The  first  illustration  has  to  do  with  a  speech 
made  after  a  Christmas  Dinner.  It  should 
be  noted  here  that  the  hour  following  the  feast 
is  not  the  time  for  the  expression  of  lofty 
thoughts.  It  may  be  assumed  that  the  re- 
ligious character  of  the  season  has  been  given 
due  attention  elsewhere.  It  is  now  the  period 
for  genial  social  enjoyment,  and  only  a  very 
few  words,  if  any,  should  be  spoken  in  serious 
mood.  But,  by  way  of  introducing  a  par- 
ticularly appropriate  story,  short  reference 
may  be  made  to  the  significance  of  the  giving 
of  gifts  in  celebrating  this  great  feast  day  of 
the  church  and  to  the  kindly  mjrth  of  Santa 
Claus.  This  serves  directly  to  justify  the 
illustrative  story,  which  may  be  indicated  as 
follows,  although  it  should  be  elaborated  in 
the   telling  according  to  the   ability  of  the 

speaker  to  make  it  amusing  throughout: 

[82] 


ILLUSTRATIVE  ANECDOTES 

A  little  boy  returned  home  with  a  black 
eye.  In  response  to  the  solicitous  questioning 
of  his  mother,  he  admitted  that  he  had  had 
a  fight  with  one  of  his  fellows,  whom  he  had 
thrashed.  He  explained  that  the  disagree- 
ment had  had  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  the 
other  boy  denied  the  existence  of  Santa 
Claus. 

The  mother  reflected  that  perhaps  her  son 
had  now  reached  an  age  when  one  of  the 
tender  illusions  of  childhood  must  speedily 
be  shattered  rudely  by  others,  if  not  gently 
by  herself.  So,  she  took  the  little  fellow  on 
her  lap,  and  revealed  to  him  the  fact  that  the 
good  old  saint  was  indeed  no  more  than  a 
creation  of  kindly  fancy.  The  boy  listened  in 
silence,  and  it  was  still  without  a  word  of 
comment  that  he  got  down  from  his  mother's 
lap,  and  went  to  the  door.  But,  in  the  door- 
way, he  turned  with  a  question: 

'*Say,  ma!  have  you  been  foolin'  me  all  this 
time  about  the  devil,  too.'"' 

Similarly,  on  Washington's  Birthday  any 
story  that  has  to  do  with  lying  is  applicable 

[83] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

by  reason  of  George's  record  for  truth  telling 
in  the  episode  of  the  cherry  tree.  Indeed, 
always,  applicability  is  obvious  concerning 
opposites,  just  as  here  there  is  the  relationship 
between  lying  and  truth  telling.  But,  as 
will  be  found  on  reading,  this  story  from  its 
point  is  particularly  pertinent. 

One  of  the  visitors  to  a  home  for  colored 
orphan  children  observed  one  of  the  pickan- 
ninies  neatly  trussed  to  a  bed-post.  Some- 
what indignant  at  the  form  of  punishment, 
she  inquired  of  an  attendant  concerning  the 
offense  committed  by  the  culprit. 

"He's  been  lyin',  ma'am,"  was  the  ex- 
planation. "He's  always  a-lyin'.  He  shore 
is  the  very  worstest,  lyin'est  nigger  I  ever  did 
see." 

"What's  his  name?"  the  visitor  demanded. 

And  the  attendant  answered: 

"George  Washington,  ma'am." 

It  is  not  advantageous  to  multiply  examples 
in  regard  to  stories  where  the  point  is  plainly 
related  to  the  subject  matter  of  the  address. 
But  illustrations  of  the  manner  in  which  a 

[84] 


ILLUSTRATIVE  ANECDOTES 

story  may  be  related  to  a  subject  with  which, 
at  first  glance,  it  has  apparently  nothing  to 
do,  are  well  worth  further  attention  of  the 
part  of  the  speaker,  since  they  will  serve  in 
some  measure  to  stimulate  his  own  ingenuity. 
Such  illustrations  by  means  of  various  stories 
and  of  suggestions  as  to  their  possible  applica- 
tion will  be  found  in  the  next  chapter. 


C85] 


Chapter  X 
THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

WHILE  a  perfectly  satisfactory- 
effect  may  be  secured  by  the 
employment  of  a  story  in 
which  the  point  quite  ob- 
viously applies  to  the  subject  matter  of  the 
address,  it  is  a  fact  that  oftentimes  a  special 
hit  may  be  scored  through  the  ingenious 
adaptation  of  an  anecdote  to  some  matter 
with  which,  seemingly  at  first,  it  is  totally 
unrelated.  The  wise  speaker  selects  a  story, 
one  that  in  itself  is  the  very  best  possible. 
He  bases  his  choice  solely  on  the  merit  of  the 
tale  as  one  sure  to  delight  his  audience.  He 
is  then  confronted  with  the  further  task  of 
reconciling  the  story  to  his  subject  matter. 
In  doing  this,  he  must  discover  some  method 
by  which  the  narrative  may  be  made  logically 

appropriate    in    illustration    of  his    thought. 

[86] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

And  just  here  comes  a  curious  and  gratifying 
reward  of  labor.  For  oftentimes,  even  usu- 
ally, in  questing  for  a  rational  excuse  in  the 
joining  of  tale  and  theme,  his  thoughts  will 
be  stirred  to  an  activity  out  of  which  issue 
ideas  interesting  and  valuable.  It  is  in  this 
wise  that  he  may  gain  much  material  of  a 
cleverly  whimsical  sort,  of  which  otherwise 
he  would  never  have  thought.  The  seeking 
to  justify  a  purely  artificial  relation  begets 
products  that  are  very  frequently  astonishing 
and  amusing.  Humor  itself  is  many  times 
merely  a  form  of  the  grotesque.  The  juxta- 
position of  things  not  naturally  thus  asso- 
ciated in  the  mind  is  often  the  cause  of 
laughter.  For  that  matter,  the  orderly  and 
logical  mind  is  not  likely  to  display  great 
humorous  ability.  A  lack  of  soundness  in 
the  mental  processes  may  manifest  in  mad- 
ness, or  in  —  humor  of  the  grotesque  sort. 
For  example,  the  ordinary  man  of  sound  mind 
does  not  naturally  think  of  practising  a  thing 
and  of  not  practising  it  in  a  single  action. 
The  contradiction  is  so  opposed  to  good  sense 

[87  3 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

that  the  thought  does  not  even  enter  his  mind. 
But  not  so  of  the  humorist.  The  absurd,  the 
impossible,  is  spontaneous  in  his  brain.  Mark 
Twain  wrote  in  an  autograph  album:  "Never 
tell  a  lie."  At  the  end  of  the  sentence,  he 
placed  a  star.  At  the  bottom  of  the  page, 
the  star  was  repeated  for  a  foot-note,  which 
read:  "Except  for  practise."  Here  is  a  crazy 
contradiction  that  is  very  laughable.  But  a 
really  logical  brain  could  never  conceive  the 
like.  Even  more  extravagant  was  the  decla- 
ration of  a  mad  gentleman  of  Verona.  This 
lunatic  was  harmless,  and  was  permitted  to 
wander  at  will.  On  one  occasion,  he  paid  a 
visit  to  a  resident  of  the  city,  to  whom  he 
explained  that  he  was  the  angel  Michael.  A 
year  later,  he  called  at  the  same  house  a 
second  time.  He  now  explained  to  his  host 
that  he  was  the  angel  Gabriel.  The  host 
ventured  a  remonstrance: 

"But  you  told  me  last  year  that  you  were 
the  angel  Michael,  and  now  you  say  that  you 
are  the  angel  Gabriel.     How  do  you  explain 

that?    You  can't  be  both  of  them!" 

[88] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am,"  the  madman  cheerfully 
replied,  without  the  slightest  trace  of  hesita- 
tion.    "But  by  different  mothers." 

As  he  experiments  with  the  establishment 
of  artificial  relation  between  tale  and  text, 
the  speaker  will  constantly  find  ideas  of  a 
more  or  less  absurd  or  whimsical  character 
presented  for  his  consideration,  and  out  of  the 
mass  he  will  be  able  to  avail  himself  of  thoughts 
that  will  help  to  establish  his  reputation  for 
cleverness. 

,  Let  us,  then,  consider  somewhat  carefully 
a  few  stories  of  which  the  natural  application 
is  obvious,  with  a  view  of  discovering  other 
ways  in  which  its  significance  may  be  made 
available. 

There  is  an  amusing  story  of  an  Irishman 
and  a  ghost.  Pat  was  making  his  way  through 
a  wood  at  night,  when  he  suddenly  felt  a  draft 
of  cold  air,  and,  on  looking  up,  saw  before 
him  a  ghost.  The  spectre  showed  every  evi- 
dence of  amiability,  for  he  was  nodding  and 
grinning  in  the  most  pleasant  and  sociable 
manner  imaginable.     The  man,  however,  re- 

C89] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

fused  to  be  bamboozled  by  any  overtures  from 
a  source  so  ghastly.  He  turned  and  fled 
down  the  path  at  top  speed.  He  went  rushing 
onward  until  his  breath  came  only  in  stran- 
gling gasps.  Yet,  a  horrified  glance  over  his 
shoulder  showed  the  ghost  floating  easily 
alongside,  still  nodding  and  grinning  with  an 
air  of  dreadful  jollity.  At  last,  Pat,  utterly 
spent,  dropped  on  a  log  by  the  path,  and  sat 
sweating  and  panting,  in  a  tremor  of  mingled 
fatigue  and  terror.  And  presently  he  looked 
up,  to  see  the  ghost  sitting  on  the  other 
end  of  the  log.  The  uncanny  apparition  con- 
tinued bobbing  its  gruesome  head  and  mow- 
ing with  the  utmost  good  nature.  And  now 
words  issued  from  the  phantom,  a  sibilant 
whisper  that  echoed  coldly  in  the  Irishman's 
heart. 

"That  was  a  fine  run  we  had,"  said  the 
ghost. 

"Yis,  sorr,"  Pat'agreed,  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"And  as  soon  as  I  catch  me  brith,  we'll  have 
another!" 

Now,  here  is  a  story  that  is  obviously  con- 

[90: 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

cerning  a  ghost,  and  it  might  be  appropriately 
told  by  a  frivolous  speaker  at  a  banquet  of 
the  Society  for  Physical  Research,  if  that 
grave  body  of  inquisitors  ever  indulges  in  such 
a  material  pastime  as  feasting.  But  such 
obvious  applicability  of  the  story  is  by  no 
means  the  limit  of  its  possible  usefulness. 
On  the  contrary,  its  very  obviousness  in  this 
direction  detracts  somewhat  from  its  merit. 
It  becomes  more  effective  when  applied  to  a 
subject  not  so  directly  implied  by  the  situa- 
tion. It  might  be  used  advantageously  to 
illustrate  the  quality  of  persistence,  or  the 
courage  for  repeated  effort  in  the  face  of  trial 
and  failure.  So,  too,  it  might  serve  to  em- 
phasize moral  bravery  as  opposed  to  physical 
cowardice.  But  it  would  give  an  excellent 
flavor  if  introduced  in  a  talk  on  forestry. 
The  speaker  might  then  air  his  learning  by 
some  remarks  as  to  religious  antiquities,  such 
as  the  tree-worship  of  ancient  races  and  the 
classical  spirits  of  the  wood,  dryad  and 
hamadryad  and  their  various  relatives  and 
so  lead  to  the  weird  spell  exercised  by  sylvan 

[91] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

shades.  He  might  cite  the  fact  that  a  boy 
whistles  to  keep  his  spirits  up  when  passing 
a  graveyard  at  night  or  when  going  through 
the  woods,  and  for  the  same  reason  in  each 
case.  At  this  point,  the  speaker  will  have  suffi- 
ciently established  a  relation  between  the 
forest  and  ghosts,  and  his  story  will  seem 
entirely  appropriate. 

The  like  method  is  to  be  employed  in  every 
case. 

A  New  England  couple  celebrated  their 
diamond  wedding.  They  were  not  only  very 
old;  they  were  also  very  healthy.  To  one 
of  the  guests  at  the  celebration  who  was  ex- 
claiming over  the  old  lady's  rosy  cheeks  and 
brisk  movements  the  ancient  bride  declared 
proudly : 

"Amos  and  me  are  mighty  peart.  There 
ain't  nothin'  much  ever  troubled  Amos, 
'cept  a  spell  of  rheumatiz  last  winter.  And 
I  ain't  had  a  sick  day  for  more'n  fifty  years  — 
'cept  one  day  arter  Amos  done  dosin'  with 
what  the  Doctor  give  him,  an'  I  took  what 
was  left  in  the  bottle,  to  save  it." 

[92] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

The  obvious  application  of  this  story  is  to 
the  subject  of  thrift,  since  the  old  woman 
has  no  earthly  need  of  medicine,  but  feels  it 
her  duty  to  avoid  any  waste  of  something 
bought  and  paid  for.  Probably  she  felt  a 
certain  satisfaction  even  in  being  sick,  since 
thus  she  got  something  for  her  money.  But 
the  application  of  the  story  might  be  extended 
to  subjects  wholly  unrelated  with  thrift.  It 
could  be  used  to  illustrate  the  popular  fond- 
ness for  patent  medicines.  It  would  entertain 
at  a  dinner  of  the  Druggists  Association.  It 
equally  would  amuse  the  medical  fraternity. 
Moreover,  by  emphasizing  various  phases  of 
the  story,  it  might  be  told  with  effect  on 
almost  any  occasion.  A  few  words  as  to  the 
preciousness  of  diamonds  and  the  rarity  of 
diamond  jubilees  would  provide  an  adequate 
introduction  at  a  dinner  of  the  Jewellers' 
Society.  Of  course,  it  could  easily  be  adapted 
to  a  wedding  feast  or  any  wedding  anniversary. 

Another  story  of  thrift  as  the  ruling  passion 
even  in  the  face  of  death  may  be  cited. 

A  New  England  wife,  who  had  attained 

[93  ] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

local  celebrity  for  the  immaculateness  of  her 
housekeeping  regarded  her  husband  with  stern 
disapproval.  The  old  man  was  abed  and 
suffering  acutely.  The  physican  had  an- 
nounced that  the  illness  must  terminate  fatally. 
The  man  rolled  and  tossed  in  a  vain  effort  to 
find  relief  from  pain.  It  was  this  activity 
on  his  part  that  excited  the  wife's  disapproba- 
tion. She  addressed  him  presently  in  a 
voice  of  cold  authority : 

"John  Henry,  you  needn't  kick  and  squirm 
so,  an'  wear  them  best  sheets  out,  even  if  you 
bea-dyin'I" 

Here,  again,  no  limitation  as  to  the  possible 
usefulness  of  the  story  is  imposed  by  its  direct 
applicability.  By  a  necessary  touch  here  or 
there  in  the  narrative,  it  may  be  made  suitable 
to  a  great  number  of  occasions.  It  could 
illustrate  the  sternness  of  the  Puritan  char- 
acter, and  be  given  appropriately  after  a 
Plymouth  Rock  dinner.  Or  it  could  be 
quoted  to  drygoods  dealers.  It  might  even 
be  applied  in  illustration  of  any  ruling  passion, 
or  stern  adherence  to  duty  at  the  cost  of 

[94] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

tenderness  in  the  very  face  of  death.  It 
might  well  rejoice  a  bachelor's  club  or  a  house- 
keeper's league.  Probably,  it  would  be  relished 
by  the  Amalgamated  Undertakers.  And  so, 
and  so  on.  The  possibilities  are  by  no  menas 
exhausted. 

The  stories  given  above  are  short,  yet  the 
manner  in  which  their  application  may  be 
varied  has  been  clearly  shown.  The  capacity 
for  adaptation  is  increased  in  longer  narratives, 
since  these  afford  an  opportunity  to  include 
any  desired  reference  in  the  setting  by  which 
it  may  be  made  harmonious  to  the  needs  of 
the  occasion. 

A  certain  gentleman  was  one  of  a  party  of 
visitors  to  a  lunatic  asylum.  He  was  much 
impressed  by  many  features  of  the  institution, 
but  particularly  by  the  seeming  sanity  ex- 
hibited by  most  of  the  inmates.  One  patient 
especially  attracted  his  favorable  regard.  In 
a  conversation  of  some  length,  the  unfortunate 
man  showed  an  intelligence  much  above  the 
average,  and  there  was  nothing  in  speech  or 
manner  to  suggest  a  mind  deranged.    The 

C9S] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

visitor  and  the  maniac  walked  about  the 
building  together,  and  at  last  the  inmate 
became  confidential  in  response  to  the  sym- 
pathetic attention  of  his  listener.  Explained 
that  the  avarice  of  relatives  had  been  the 
actual  cause  of  his  incarceration  in  this  insti- 
tution for  the  insane.  He  had  detected  the 
plot  against  him,  and  in  order  to  oppose  it 
he  had  secretly  converted  a  large  amount  of 
securities  into  banknotes  and  gold,  with  the 
idea  of  thus  possessing  funds  in  case  his 
property  should  be  tied  up  by  legal  proceedings 
against  him.  Secretly,  at  dead  of  night,  he 
buried  this  sum  of  money  in  a  secluded  spot 
known  only  to  himself.  Then,  unfortunately, 
the  unexpectedly  swift  action  of  his  enemies 
brought. his  plans  of  defense  to  naught.  He 
was  seized  and  shut  up  in  the  lunatic  asylum, 
and  as  yet  he  had  been  unable  to  make  use 
of  the  money  hidden  by  him.  He  now  pro- 
posed to  the  visitor  that  the  latter  should  aid 
him  in  his  extremity.  He  offered  to  give  full 
directions  for  finding  the  buried  treasure,  with 
a  furthef  offer  of  one-half  the  amount  as  a 

[96] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

gift,  provided  the  other  half  should  be  devoted 
to  obtaining  his  release  from  confinement. 

The  visitor  was  skeptical  as  to  the  truth  of 
the  story,  but  he  maintained  an  air  of  credulity 
to  avoid  any  danger  of  exciting  the  lunatic 
unduly.  He  listened  sympathetically,  and 
finally,  in  response  to  the  other's  urging,  agreed 
to  act  in  his  behalf.  He  accepted  the  proff^ered 
gift  of  half  the  mone}^,  and  solemnly  promised 
to  employ  the  remainder  toward  securing  the 
freedom  of  its  owner.  The  lunatic  then  gave 
explicit  instructions  for  finding  the  spot  where 
the  money  had  been  buried.  The  visitor 
vowed  to  lose  no  time  in  retrieving  the  treasure 
and  in  applying  it  to  the  proposed  project. 

As  the  two  men  walked  on  together,  the 
crazed  one  was  insistent  that  the  other  should 
not  forget  his  promise,  and  the  visitor  re- 
iterated his  assurances  that  he  would  not 
fail. 

Presently,  the  party  of  guests  assembled 
on  the  veranda,  about  to  take  their  departure. 
The  man  who  had  promised  to  seek  the  hidden 
funds  was  standing  at  the  head  of  the  high 

[97] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

steps  leading  to  the  driveway,  when  the 
lunatic  again  approached,  sidling  up  to  him 
stealthily,  in  a  manner  at  once  crafty  and 
suspicious. 

"You  won't  forget?"  he  whispered  threat- 
eningly. 

"No,  no,  certainly  not,"  the  visitor  declared 
hastily,  with  nervous  emphasis. 

"You're  sure.?  You  won't  forget.'"'  the 
crazy  man  demanded  again. 

"I  won't  forget,"  was  the  earnest  reply 
soothingly  spoken. 

The  visitor  turned  to  descend  the  steps. 
On  the  instant,  he  received  a  kick  that  sent 
him  tumbling  to  sprawl  on  the  gravel  of  the 
driveway. 

"What  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for?"  he 
cried  out  wrathfully  as  he  scrambled  to  his 
feet. 

The  maniac  grinned  down  in  high  glee  from 
his  place  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 

"That,"  he  exclaimed  crisply,  "is  in  case 
you  forget!" 

In  an  instance  such  as  this,  the  narrative 

L983 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

is  of  a  sort  to  permit  elaboration  of  details  to 
any  desired  extent.  Such  elaboration  may 
be  so  directed  as  to  make  the  story  applicable 
to  a  chosen  theme,  whatever  that  theme  may 
be.  The  very  fact  that  the  tale  has  no 
distinctively  obvious  quality  as  did  the  anec- 
dotes of  thrift  given  above,  affords  it  a 
character  of  an  elastic  sort,  bendable  as 
desired.  Thus  it  might  be  twisted  to  apply 
as  an  illustration  to  the  subject  of  etiquette, 
for  it  is  a  rule  of  propriety  in  visiting  an 
insane  asylum  to  humor  the  patients,  never 
to  antagonize  them.  But  it  illustrates  also 
the  necessity  for  discretion,  even  of  caution, 
in  our  acts  of  politeness  or  kindness,  lest  we 
receive  a  kick.  And  the  story  is  easily 
related  to  such  subjects  as  state  institutions 
in  general,  the  duties  of  official  visitors,  the 
vagaries  of  crazed  persons,  the  lure  of  buried 
treasure,  the  laws  concerning  the  confinement 
of  the  mentally  diseased.  By  making  the 
visitor  really  believe  the  lunatic's  yarn,  the 
way  is  opened  to  various  other  applications, 
concerning    such    matters    as    credulousness, 

C99] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

avarice,  rewards  and  punishments,  high  hopes 
and  bitter  disillusion.  Other  adaptations 
might  be  effected  by  changes  in  the  setting  of 
the  narrative.  By  locating  the  asylum  in  a 
particular  place,  it  becomes  suited  to  any 
gathering  in  the  region  adjacent.  By  dis- 
tinguishing the  visitor  as  a  plumber  or  a 
master  mason,  a  relationship  is  established 
that  fits  it  for  the  assembly  of  either  plumbers 
or  masons.  And,  here  again,  the  list  of 
possible  applications  is  not  exhausted.  Rather, 
the  illustrations  are  intended  only  as  sug- 
gestions of  the  manner  in  which  the  useful- 
ness of  certain  story  may  be  varied.  The 
actual  scope  of  such  variation  is  limited  only 
by  the  seeker's  ingenuity. 

It  seems  well  to  give  the  speaker  a  few 
words  of  advice  concerning  the  choice  of  his 
stories.  It  may  surprise  him  to  be  told  that 
it  is  usually  more  expedient  to  choose  the 
old  tale  rather  than  the  new.  The  reasons 
for  this  are  twofold.  In  the  first  place,  the 
new  story  travels  the  rounds  with  a  celerity 

truly  amazing.     Means  of  communication  are 

Cioo] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

so  multiplied  in  the  modern  community,  and 
social  intercourse  is  so  constant  that  the  latest 
humorous  anecdote  is  speedily  made  known 
to  almost  every  one.  Therefore,  if  the  speaker 
put  his  reliance  on  the  story  of  the  moment,  he 
is  likely  to  have  it  fall  flat.  The  audience 
has  already  laughed  itself  weary  of  this  par- 
ticular jest.  In  the  second  place,  the  anti- 
quated narrative  has  been  dead  and  buried  so 
long  that  on  its  resurrection  it  is  recognizable 
by  few,  if  any  hearers.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
certain  essentially  amusing  situations  are 
forever  cropping  up  in  our  humorous  narra- 
tives. The  characters  involved  and  the 
setting  of  dialogue  or  action  are  varied  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  contemporary  en- 
tertainment, but  the  substance  of  the  plot 
remains  the  same.  It  has  been  sarcastically 
declared  that  all  jokes  may  be  traced  to 
three  originals,  though  constantly  paraded 
under  multitudinous  disguises.  It  is  not  true, 
nor  would  it  be  true  if  the  number  were  set  at 
three  hundred.  But  the  exaggeration  itself 
serves  to  impress  on  us  an  appreciation  of  the 

[loi] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

fact.  The  real  identity  of  a  humorous  in- 
cident survives  through  countless  changes  of 
appearance.  To  a  careful  student  of  humor,  a 
story  is  rarely,  if  ever,  quite  new.  At  the 
best,  it  is  merely  a  new  dressing  for  an  old 
point.  And  since  the  special  form  of  the 
tale  serves  only  as  the  vehicle  for  its  humor, 
the  old  story  is  fully  the  equal  of  the  new  in 
its  amusing  quality,  and  there  is  more  likeli- 
hood that  the  ancient  garb  will  appear  strange 
to  to-day's  audience.  I  remember  one  story 
that  pleased  me  mightily  when  I  was  a  boy. 
I  found  it  in  the  humorous  department  of  a 
standard  magazine,  of  which  there  were  bound 
files  in  the  library  of  my  home.  The  issue  of 
the  magazine  was  under  date  of  the  early 
sixties.  I  have  repeatedly  told  that  story, 
with  unfailing  success;  it  seemed  always 
agreeably  new  to  the  audience.  But  about 
ten  years  ago  I  decided  to  tell  this  anecdote 
no  more  for  a  long  time.  The  reason  was 
that  in  a  new  number  of  the  same  magazine 
I  found  the  story  repeated  almost  word  for 
word  in  the  humorous  department,  just  as 

C  102  ] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

half  a  century  earlier.  And  the  magazine  still 
has  a  large  vogue.  I  knew  that  this  republi- 
cation would  place  the  story  before  so  many 
readers  as  to  render  it  unsatisfactory  for  my 
purposes.    But  by  and  by  I  shall  use  it  again. 

Often,  too,  there  is  a  wholesome  simplicity 
in  the  primitive  narrative  that  may  well  cause 
preference  of  it  over  later,  more  sophisticated 
versions.  For  example,  at  a  wedding  break- 
fast I  would  not  care  to  relate  some  of  the 
newest  anecdotes  dealing  with  the  marriage 
relation.  There  is  a  suggestion  of  decadence 
in  them  that  might  be  deemed  offensive  on 
such  an  occasion,  and  quite  properly  so 
deemed.  But  I  would  not  hesitate  to  relate 
the  dialogue  between  the  two  soldiers  on  the 
eve  of  battle : 

Jack  and  Jim,  as  they  lay  on  their  blankets 
looking  up  at  the  stars,  were  moved  to 
solemn  thoughts  before  the  dread  possibilities 
of  the  morrow.  At  last,  after  a  long  silence 
Jim  questioned  his  comrade. 

"Jack,  how  did  it  come  about  that  you 
decided  to  go  to  war.?" 

[103] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Jack  pondered  for  a  little,  and  then  gave  a 
straightforward  explanation. 

*'Well,  you  see,  I  was  always  fond  of  rows 
and  ructions  and  all  kinds  of  fighting  and 
such,  and  I  wa'n't  married,  and  so  I  come." 
Then,  after  an  interval,  he  propounded  the 
question  in  his  turn: 

"Jim,  how's  happen  you  decided  to  go  to 
war.?" 

Jim  swallowed  a  few  times  and  presently 
spoke  in  a  level,  rather  tired  voice. 

"Well,  Jack,  you  see  as  how  it  was  like  this. 
I  never  did  like  rows  and  ruction  and  fighting 
and  such  like,  and  I  was  married,  and  I  loved 
peace  and  quietness,  and  I  had  a  wife  and 
eight  children,  and  so  I  come!" 

Similarly,  too,  I  should  have  no  scruples 
in  relating  before  the  bridal  pair  an  anecdote 
of  Grandpa  Doolittle.  He  was  a  good  man,  a 
substantial  farmer  and  a  deacon  in  the  church 
in  the  early  days  of  Vermont.  But  some 
busy  bodies  of  his  own  generation  had  been 
heard  to  allege  that  the  poor  man  was  hen- 
pecked.   One  evening,  a  little  Hiram  Doo- 

C104] 


THE  APPLICATION  OF  STORIES 

little,  the  old  man's  grandson,  broke  off  the 
study  of  his  lessons  to  ask  a  question. 

"Oh,  gran'pa,  what  great  war  began  in 
.1812?" 

The  old  deacon  mused  for  a  few  moments, 
then  suddenly  straightened  and  answered  with 
unaccustomed  vigor: 

"18 1 2  — 1 812?  Why,  that's  the  year  I 
married  your  grandma!" 

And  at  the  same  marriage  feast,  I  might 
venture  to  tell  of  the  self-assertive  husband, 
who,  had  been  chased  from  cellar  to  garret 
and  back  to  the  family  bed-room  by  his  very 
high-spirited  wife  pljang  a  broom.  The  un- 
fortunate man  sought  refuge  by  crawling 
under  the  bed.  \  As  the  wife  prodded  at 
him  with  the  broom-handle  she  vociferated 
shrilly: 

"William  Henry  Peck,  you  come  out  from 
under  that  bed." 

But  William  Henry,  while  he  fended  the 

broomstick  from  his  ribs  as  best  he  could  with 

his  hands,   announced   in  muffled,   but  firm 

accents: 

[105] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

"I  won't  come  out,  Mariah !  I  will  be  mas- 
ter in  my  own  house !" 

It  is  suggested  to  the  speaker  that  he  should 
exercise  great  caution  in  repeating  any  par- 
ticular story.  It  is  advisable  for  him  to  make 
a  practise  of  using  an  anecdote  once,  and  once 
only  in  his  public  addresses.  He  may  assume 
that  the  stories  he  tells  are  quoted  by  those 
who  hear  them,  that  they  even  find  their  way 
into  the  public  press.  In  short,  by  his  use 
of  them,  he  places  them  in  the  category  of 
new  stories,  and  the  warning  given  above 
against  the  employment  of  these  applies 
henceforth.  More  than  one  speaker  has  at- 
tained an  unenviable  notoriety  by  injudicious 
repetitions  of  a  favorite  story.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  such  folly,  since  the  supply  of 
material  is  practically  inexhaustible.  When- 
ever repetitions  are  made  they  should  be 
separated  by  long  intervals  of  time,  preferably 
of  years. 


Cio6] 


Chapter  XI 
TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

IN  the  old  days,  it  was  the  custom  to  drink 
deeply  after  dinner  in  the  baronial  hall, 
and  the  custom  of  that  convivial  period 
established  an  etiquette  that  was  aped  in 
more  modest  establishments  —  an  etiquette, 
indeed,  that  has  in  some  features  survived  to 
our  own  time.  This  is  especially  true  in 
the  matter  of  toasts.  The  drinking  bout  was 
recognized  as  an  occasion  for  jollity.  But 
there  is  no  gaiety  in  a  bibulousness  which  is 
silent.  So,  minstrels  tuned  harps  and  voices 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  revelers,  and  tales 
were  told,  and  many  bumpers  drained  to  the 
honor  of  gods  and  men  and  gallant  deeds. 
Thus,  the  practise  of  offering  toasts  was 
developed.  The  social  aspect  of  the  custom 
gave  it  the  strength  through  which  it  became 
almost  universal  among  civilized  men,  through 

C  107] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

which  it  survives  to  some  extent  even  among 
those  who  resist  the  lure  of  wine.  This 
anomaly  is  truly  like  the  play  of  "Hamlet'* 
with  Hamlet  left  out,  but  the  sentiment  of 
prohibition,  while  rejecting  liquor,  will  retain 
its  most  graceful  feature,  the  offering  of  toasts. 
In  giving  a  toast,  the  speaker  simply  names 
some  person  or  thing  as  a  subject  to  be 
honored  by  the  company  in  a  draft  of  wine. 
The  plainest  form  for  the  toast  is,  of  course, 
the  mere  naming  of  the  person  or  thing  to 
receive  the  tribute  of  the  ceremony.  From 
this  point  of  simplicity,  the  speaker  may 
extend  his  remarks  in  any  manner  he  chooses. 
He  may  pay  a  compliment,  either  ingenious 
or  sincere  or  both,  to  the  subject  of  his  toast 
or  he  may  deliver  a  considerable  eulogy,  or 
he  may  discuss  particularly  any  phase  of  the 
subject  that  appeals  to  him.  Usually,  it  is 
better  to  reserve  actual  naming  of  the  subject 
for  the  conclusion  of  the  remarks.  And  to 
the  designation  thus  at  the  end,  there  may  be 
added  a  sentiment,  a  phrase  briefly  summing 

up  the  virtues  of  the  theme.     For  example, 

[loS] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

in  offering  as  a  toast  the  word  "Home,"  a 
favorite  sentiment  has  been,  "the  father's 
kingdom,  the  child's  paradise,  the  mother's 
world." 

This  quotation  brings  us  to  a  consideration 
of  what  is  most  expedient  in  the  matter  of 
sentiments  to  be  used  in  the  offering  of  toasts. 
The  toast  itself  presents  no  difficulty.  It  is 
no  more  and  no  less  than  the  naming  of  any- 
subject  it  proposed  to  honor.  But  in  the 
matter  of  the  sentiment  there  is  more  difficulty, 
since  it  should  be  made  distinctive,  yet 
within  the  restrictions  of  the  best  taste.  The 
custom  has  been  in  the  past  to  formulate 
sentiments  of  a  rhetorical  sort,  ornate,  flam- 
boyant. For  all  patriotic  toasts,  the  spread- 
eagle  character  was  in  high  favor.  The  effort 
generally  was  toward  something  high-sounding 
or  ostentatiously  clever.  To-day,  our  taste 
is  rather  for  simplicity  in  both  the  thought 
and  the  form  of  the  sentiment.  In  this 
respect,  just  as  with  oratory  in  all  its  other 
phases,  the  tendency  is  toward  directness  of 

thought  and  plainess  of  expression.     So,  it  is 

C  109] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

advisable  for  the  speaker  to  meet  the  mood  of 
the  hour  by  scrupulous  avoidance  of  mere- 
tricious adornment  of  artificial.  It  is  far 
better  to  make  the  sentiment  the  expression 
of  a  simple  and  sincere  feeling,  expressed  in 
the  fewest  possible  words,  and  these  words  of 
a  sort  understandable  by  all.  His  best  method 
is  to  carefully  think  out  the  particular  thought 
to  be  emphasized,  and  then  to  give  it  a  phras- 
ing of  his  own,  direct  and  explicit.  He  must 
sedulously  resist  any  temptation  toward  gran- 
diloquence in  his  statement.  The  sentiment 
should  ring  true,  if  it  is  to  be  effective.  It  is, 
therefore,  necessary  that  it  should  be  the 
expression  of  a  real  feeling,  a  sincere  tribute. 
Such  sincerity  is  most  convincing  in  the 
plainest  garb  of  words.  Ornament  is  likely 
to  obscure  its  genuine  quality. 

The  sentiment  may  often  be  given  to  ad- 
vantage in  the  form  of  a  quotation.  Poems 
offer  the  best  opportunity  for  admirable 
selections.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  a  com- 
pilation of  quotations  in  verse  is  included  in 

the    present   volume.     The    choice   of  these 

[no] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

selections  has  been  carefully  made  with  a  view 
to  their  practical  usefulness  for  a  great  variety 
of  occasions.  Preference  has  been  given  to 
those  poets  in  our  language  whose  work  is 
most  generally  known  and  esteemed.  There 
are  two  causes  sufficient  to  justify  such 
preference  for  those  authors  long  and  widely 
celebrated  to  others  whose  vogue  is  of  the 
moment  and,  perhaps  usually,  merely  transi- 
tory. Such  poets  as  Byron  and  Burns  are 
universall}'  known  and  esteemed.  Hardly 
an  audience  anywhere  but  would  have  at 
least  some  smatterings  of  knowledge  con- 
cerning their  works.  The  case  would  be  quite 
otherwise  in  the  average  company  were  the 
poet  quoted  to  be  one  who  had  achieved  the 
latest  eccentricity  in  free  verse.  Even  his 
or  her  name  would  be  unknown,  and  the 
effusion  itself  would  be  utterly  unintelligible. 
It  is  important  to  remember  that  an  audience 
does  not  relish  being  confounded  by  its  own 
ignorance  through  the  tactlessness  of  a  speaker. 
For  this  reason,  a  distinct  advantage  is  se- 
cured   by   employing   a    quotation   from    an 

[III] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

author  who  is  at  least  theoretically  familiar 
to  the  listeners.  They  complacently  accept 
the  verses  of  Longfellow,  whose  poetry  was 
memorized  by  them  in  the  district  school, 
while  they  might,  and  probably  would,  resent 
the  strange  cadences  of  a  writer  whose  name 
even  was  wholly  strange  in  their  ears. 

The  second  reason  for  the  preference  given 
to  the  poets  of  highest  repute  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  uniformly  their  mode  of  expression 
is  gratifyingly  direct  and  lucid.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  the  speaker  recites  the 
quotation  to  the  audience  just  once.  He  is 
not  delivering  a  lecture  on  the  poet;  he  does 
not  analyze  the  verses  phrase  by  phrase  in 
order  to  explain  their  exact  significance.  The 
single  repetition  of  the  words  is  the  only  op- 
portunity afforded  for  the  conveyance  of  the 
poet's  thought.  This  condition  has  been 
carefully  considered  throughout  in  determin- 
ing those  quotations  best  adapted  to  the 
speaker's  purposes.  This  involves  no  denial 
of  the  merits  possessed  by  the  many  poets 
rejected  in  the  preparation  of  the  list.     Theif 

[112] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

virtues,  indeed,  are  many;  oftentimes,  from 
the  strictly  poetical  standpoint,  far  superior 
to  those  represented  here.  Their  fault,  so 
far  as  the  speaker's  need  is  concerned,  is  that 
they  are  more  difficult  to  understand.  The 
speaker  has  to  consider  the  availability  of  a 
quotation  by  the  responsiveness  to  it  of  his 
audience.  A  beauty  hidden  is  no  beauty  to 
the  observer;  the  beautiful  tliought  is  a  futile 
thing  if  it  be  unintelligible. 

For  the  greater  convenience  of  the  speaker, 
the  list  of  quotations  is  presented  under 
topical  headings.  These  headings  are  arranged 
topical  headings.  These  headings  are  ar- 
ranged in  alphabetical  order,  so  that  the  entire 
list  is  self-indexed.  The  headings  themselves 
constitute  a  body  of  toasts  suitable  for  a 
great  variety  of  occasions,  and  in  each  in- 
stance the  particular  heading  is  followed  by 
one  or  more  quotations  of  poetry  suitable  for 
use  as  a  sentiment  in  connection  with  the 
toast. 

The  speaker  should  bear  in  mind  that  often 
it  may  be  preferable  to  limit  the  sentiment  to 

[113  3 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

a  single  line,  or  even  phrase,  of  a  stanza, 
instead  of  offering  the  whole  quotation.  More- 
over, he  need  have  no  hesitation  in  paraphras- 
ing any  thought  of  the  poet  that  makes  a 
special  appeal  to  him.  Thus,  he  may  find  in 
the  list  a  stimulant  to  his  own  fancy  that  will 
enable  him  to  formulate  the  sentiment  in  his 
own  words.  Used  in  the  manner  indicated, 
the  list  of  quotations  will,  it  is  hoped,  prove 
very  serviceable  to  the  speaker  in  the  task 
of  preparation. 


E114] 


Toasts  and  Sentiments 


"Toasts  and  Sentiments 


AMERICA 

All  With  Thee 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes  are  all  with  thee. 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  are  all  with  thee. 

-  LOWELL 


A  Unity 

One  flag,  one  land,  one  heart,  one  hand. 
One  nation  evermore! 

—  HOLMES 

C117] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Breathes  There  A  Man 

Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead. 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land? 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 

As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned. 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand? 
If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well; 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell; 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name, 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim. 
Despite  those  titles,  power  and  pelf. 
The  wretch,  concentered  all  in  self. 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown. 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung, 
Unwept,  unhonored,  and  unsung. 

—  SCOTT 

* 

Country  and  Flag 

To  her  we  drink,  for  her  we  pray, 

Our  voices  silent  never; 
For  her  we'll  fight,  come  what  may, 

The  stars  and  stripes  forever! 

—  DECATUR 
[118] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

My  Native  Land 

My  native  land!    I  turn  to  you, 

With  blessing  and  with  prayer, 
Where  man  is  brave  and  woman  true, 

And  free  as  mountain  air. 
Long  may  our  flag  in  triumph  wave 

Against  the  world  combined. 
And  friends  a  welcome  —  foes  a  grave, 

Within  our  borders  find. 

—  MORRIS 


Our  Country 

Our  Country,  may  she  always  be  in  the  right  — • 
but  right  or  wrong  —  Our  Country. 

—  DECATUR 


Where  the  Heart  Is 

Our  country  is  that  spot  to  which  our  heart  Is 
bound. 

—  VOLTAIRE 


CII9] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


BEER 

Into  the  Can 

Who'd  care  to  be  a  bee  and  sip 
Sweet  honey  from  a  flower's  lip 
When  he  might  be  a  fly  and  steer 
Head  first  into  a  can  of  beer? 

-  ANON. 

* 

The  Remedy  of  Grief 

Such  power  hath  beer.     The  heart  where  Grief 

hath  cankered 
Hath  one  unfaiHng  remedy  —  the  tankard. 

SAXE 


BRANDT 

The  Liar 

If  wine  tells  truth,  and  so  have  said  the  wise; 
It  makes  me  laugh  to  think  how  brandy  lies. 

—  holmes 


[120] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


CONTENTMENT 

Girl  and  Friend  and  Pitcher 

The  wealthy  fool  with  gold  in  store 

Will  still  desire  to  grow  richer, 
Give  me  but  these,  I  ask  no  more  — 

My  charming  girl,  my  friend,  and  pitcher. 

My  friend  so  rare.,  my  girl  so  fair. 
With  such,  what  mortal  can  he  richer? 

Give  me  but  these,  a  fig  for  care. 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend,  and  pitcher. 

From  morning  sun,  I'd  never  grieve 

To  toil  a  hedger,  or  a  ditcher. 
If  that  when  I  come  home  at  eve, 

I  might  enjoy  my  friend  and  pitcher. 

My  friend  so  rare,  my  girl  so  fair. 
With  such,  what  mortal  can  he  richer? 

Give  me  hut  these,  a  fig  for  care. 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend,  and  pitcher. 

[121] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Tho*  Fortune  ever  shuns  my  door  — 
I  do  not  know  what  can  bewitch  her  — 

With  all  my  heart  can  I  be  poor, 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend,  and  pitcher. 

My  friend  so  rare,  my  girl  so  fair, 
With  such,  what  mortal  can  be  richer? 

Give  me  hut  these,  a  fig  for  care,. 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend,  and  pitcher, 

—  ANON. 
• 

Sambo's  Toast 

Little  ter-day  an'  Httle  ter-morrer, 
Out  o'  meal  an'  bound  ter  borrer; 
Hoe  cake  an'  dab  o'  dough, 
Dash  her  down  and  say  no  mo*. 
Peace  at  home  and  pleasure  abroad, 
Please  your  neighbor  an'  sarve  the  Lord. 

God  bless  you! 

—  anon. 

* 

The  Little  Needs 

A  little  health,  a  little  wealth, 

A  little  house  and  freedom. 

With  some  few  friends  for  certain  ends, 

But  little  cause  to  need  'em. 

—  anon. 

C122] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


DEATH 

Dead  All  Over 

While  we  live,  let's  live  in  clover, 

For  when  we're  dead,  we're  dead  all  over. 

—  ANON. 

DINING 

The  One  Essentla.l 

We  may  live  without  poetry,  music  and  art, 
We  may  live  without  conscience  and  live  without 

heart, 
We  may  live  without  friends;  we  may  live  without 

books; 
But  civilized  men  cannot  live  without  cooks. 
We  may  live  without  books,  — 
What  is  knowledge  but  grieving. 
We  may  live  without  hope,  —  what  is  hope  but 

deceiving. 
We  may  live  without  love,  —  what  is  passion  but 

pining; 
But  where  is  the  man  who  can  live  without  dining? 

—  MEREDITH 


CI23] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


DRINKING 

The  Old  Convivial  Glow 

I  FEEL  the  old  convivial  glow  (unaided)  o'er  me 
stealing  — 

The  warm,  champagny,  old  particular,  brandy- 
punchy  feeling. 

A  HOLMES 


FRIENDSHIP 

Good  Fellows 

A  GLASS  is  good,  and  a  lass  is  good, 
And  a  pipe  to  smoke  in  cold  weather; 

The  world  is  good  and  the  people  are  good, 
And  we're  all  good  fellows  together. 

—  o'keefe 


Here's  to  Those 

Here's  to  those  I  love; 

Here's  to  those  who  love  me; 

Here's  to  those  who  love  those  I  love. 

And  here's  to  those  who  love  those  who  love  me. 

—  ANON. 

C124] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Most  Prized 

Old  books,  old  wine,  old  nankin  blue  — 

All  things,  in  short,  to  which  belong 

The  charm,  the  grace,  that  time  makes  strong. 

All  these  I  prize,  but  {entre  nous) 

Old  friends  are  best. 

—  DOBSON 


The  Four  Blessings 

Oh!     Be  thou  blest  with  that  heaven  can  send, 
Long  health,  long  youth,  long  pleasure  —  and  a 
friend. 

—  POPE     ' 


The  Four  Hinges 

Here's  to  the  four  hinges  of  Friendship, 
Swearing,  Lying,  Stealing  and  Drinking. 

When  you  swear,  swear  by  your  country; 
When  you  lie,  lie  for  a  pretty  woman; 

When  you  steal,  steal  away  from  bad  company; 
And  when  you  drink,  drink  with  me. 

—  ANON. 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

The  Loving  Cup 

And  let  the  Loving-Cup  go  round, 

The  cup  with  blessed  memories  crowned, 

That  flows  when  e'er  we  meet  —  my  boys. 

No  draught  will  hold  a  drop  of  sin, 

If  love  is  only  well  stirred  in 

To  keep  it  sound  and  sweet  —  my  boys. 

To  keep  it  sound  and  sweet. 

—  HOLMES 

GIRLS 

Prettiest  Last 

You  may  run  the  whole  gamut  of  color  and  shade 
A  pretty  girl  —  however  you  dress  her  — 

Is  the  prettiest  thing  that  ever  was  made. 
And  the  last  one  is  always  the  prettiest. 
Bless  her! 

—  ANON. 

GOODNESS 

One  Grand  Sweet  Song 

Be  good,  and  let  who  will  be  clever, 
Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them  all  day  long. 
And  thus  make  life,  death  and  that  vast  forever 
One  grand  sweet  song. 

—  anon. 

[126] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


HAPPINESS 

A  Twin 

All  who  joy  would  win 

Must  share  it:  —  Happiness  was  bom  a  twin. 

BYRON 


HOME 

The  World  of  Love 

A  WORLD  of  strife  shut  out,  and  a  world  of  love 
shut  in. 

ANON. 


IN  MEMORIAM 

To  Those  Who  Have  Passed 

Oh!  here's  to  other  meetings 

And  other  greetings  then, 
And  here's  to  those  we've  drunk  with, 

But  never  can  again. 

—  anon. 


[127] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


KISSES 

And  Again! 

Give  me  kisses!     Nay,  'tis  true 
I  am  just  as  rich  as  you; 
And  for  every  kiss  I  owe, 
I  can  pay  you  back,  you  know. 

Kiss  me,  then 

Every  moment  and  again. 

SAXE 

Neglect 

How  should  great  Jove  himself  do  else  than  this 
To  win  the  woman  he  forgets  to  kiss. 

PATMORE 


No,  Never! 

I  ne'er  could  any  lustre  see 

In  eyes  that  would  not  look  at  me 

I  ne'er  found  nectar  on  a  lip 

But  where  my  own  did  hope  to  sip. 

—  SHERIDAN 
[128] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Propinquity 

Tis  sweet  to  think  that  where'er  we  rove, 
We  are  sure  to  find  something  blissful  and  dear. 
And  that  when  we  are  far  from  the  Hps  that  we 

love 
We've  but  to  make  love  to  the  lips  that  are  near. 

—  MOORE 


Sweeter  By  Far 

You  will  find,  my  dear  boy,  that  the  dearly  prized 
kiss, 

Which  with  rapture  you  snatched  from  the  half- 
willing  Miss, 

Is  sweeter  by  far  than  the  legalized  kisses 

You  give  the  same  girl  when  you've  made  her 
a  Mrs. 

—  ANON. 

• 

Sweetest  Memorial 

When  age  chills  the  blood,  when  our  pleasures 

are  past  — 

When  years   fleet  away  with  the  wings  of  the 

dove  — 

[129] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

The  dearest  remembrance  will  still  be  the  last. 
Our  sweetest  memorial  the  first  kiss  of  love. 

—  BYRON 


The  Remedy 

Never  a  lip  is  curved  in  pain 

That  can't  be  kissed  into  smiles  again. 

— HARTE 


LAUGHTER 

Coffin-Nails 

Care  to  our  coffin  adds  a  nail,  no  doubt, 
And  every  grin,  so  merry,  draws  one  out. 

WOLCOTT 


Laugh  and  be  Fat 

Laugh  and  be  fat,  sir,  your  penance  is  known; 
They  that  love  mirth  let  them  heartily  drink 
Tis  the  only  receipt  to  make  sorrow  sink. 

—  JOHNSON 

C130] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Laugh  At  All 

Laugh  at  all  things, 

Great  and  small  things, 
Sick  or  well,  at  sea  or  shore; 

While  we're  quaffing. 

Let's  have  laughing, 
Who  the  devil  cares  for  more? 

BYRON 


LIQUOR 

Ally  of  Genius 

Let  schoolmasters  puzzle  their  brain, 
With  grammar  and  nonsense  and  learning; 
Good  liquor,  I  stoutly  maintain 
Gives  genius  a  better  discerning. 

—  GOLDSMITH 


LONG  LIFE 

Paradox 

Here's  that  we  may  live  to  eat  the  hen 
That  scratches  on  our  grave. 

—  ANON. 

C131] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


LOVE 

Better  to  Have  Loved  and  Lost 

I  HOLD  it  true,  what'er  befall, 
I  feel  it  when  I  sorrow  most; 

'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost, 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all. 

TENNYSON 


If ! 

Here's  to  those  who'd  love  us 

If  we  only  cared. 
Here's  to  those  we'd  love 

If  we  only  dared. 

—  ANON. 

• 

His  Own 

Here's  to  the  man  who  loves  his  wife. 

And  loves  his  wife  alone. 
For  many  a  man  loves  another  man's  wife, 

When  he  ought  to  be  loving  his  own. 

—  ANON. 

C  132  ] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Love  Laughs  at  Law 

O,  RANK  is  good,  and  gold  is  fair, 
And  high  and  low  mate  ill; 

.  But  love  has  never  known  a  law, 
Beyond  its  own  sweet  will. 

—  WHITTIER 


Time  Wasted 

The  cup  that  is  longest  untasted 
^  -^  May  be  with  our  bliss  running  o'er, 
And,  love  when  we  will,  we  have  wasted 
An  age  in  not  loving  before. 

—  WILLIS 


To  Celt  A 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes. 

And  I  will  pledge  with  mine; 
Or  leave  a  kiss  but  in  the  cup, 

And  I'll  not  look  for  wine. 
The  thirst  that  from  the  soul  doth  rise, 

Doth  ask  a  drink  divine; 
But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sup, 

I  would  not  change  from  thine. 
[133  ] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

I  sent  thee  late  a  rosy  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honouring  thee, 
As  giving  it  a  hope  that  there 

It  could  not  withered  be. 
But  thou  thereon  didst  only  breathe. 

And  sent'st  it  back  to  me: 
Since  when  it  grows,  and  smells,  I  swear. 

Not  of  itself,  but  thee. 

—  JOHNSON 

To-day 

Time  is  short,  life  is  short, 

Life  is  sweet,  love  is  sweet,  use  to-day  while  you 

may; 
Love  is  sweet,  and  to-morrow  may  fail; 
Love  is  sweet,  use  to-day. 

—  CHRISTINA  G.   ROSSETTI 


To  Each,  A  Mate 

To  every  lovely  lady  bright, 
I  wish  a  gallant  faithful  knight; 
To  every  faithful  lover,  too 
I  wish  a  trusting  lady  true. 

—  SCOTT 

C134] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

To  Thee 

Here's  a  sigh  to  those  who  love  me, 
And  a  smile  to  those  who  hate; 
And  whatever  sky's  above  me, 
Here's  a  heart  for  every  fate. 
Were't  the  last  drop  in  the  well, 
As  I  gasped  upon  the  brink, 
Ere  my  fainting  spirit  fell, 
*Tis  to  thee  that  I  would  drink, 

—  BYRON 


Unrequited  Love 

A  MIGHTY  pain  to  love  it  is, 
And  'tis  a  pain  that  pain  to  miss; 
But,  of  all  pains,  the  greatest  pain, 
Is  to  love,  but  love  in  vain. 

—  COWLEY 

* 

When  Heaven  Opens 

O  tender  longing!  sweet  hope!  the  golden 
time  of  first  love  —  the  eye  sees  the  heaven  open 
while  the  heart  is  silent  in  blissfulness. 

—  SCHILLER 

[135: 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


MARRIAGE 

A  Crown  of  Blessing 

Look  down  you  gods, 

And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown. 

—  SHAKESPEARE 


OLD  AGE 

The  Good  Die  Young 

The    good    die    young  —  Here's    hoping    that 
you  may  live  to  a  ripe  old  age. 

—  anon. 


OLD   TIMES 

In  Memory 

I  DRINK  it  as  the  Fates  ordain  it, 

Come,  fill  it,  and  have  done  with  rhymes; 

Fill  up  the  lonely  glass,  and  drain  it 
In  memory  of  dear  old  times. 

—  THACKERAY 

CI36] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


PRESENT 

My  Hour 

The  past  was  bad,  and  the  future  hid  its  good  or 

ill  untried,  O; 
But  the  present  hour  was  in  my  power,  and  so  I 

would  enjoy  it,  O. 

BURNS 


PROsPERirr 

For  Me,  For  You 

A  CHEERFUL  glass,  a  pretty  lass, 
A  friend  sincere  and  true; 
Blooming  health,  good  store  of  wealth, 
Attend  on  me  and  you. 

—  anon. 


QUAKER   TOAST 

Me  and  Mine,  Thee  and  Thine 

Here's  a  health  to  me  and  mine. 
Not  forgetting  thee  and  thine; 

C137] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

And  when  thee  and  thine 
Come  to  see  me  and  mine, 

May  me  and  mine  make  thee  and  thine 
As  welcome  as  thee  and  thine 
Have  ever  made  me  and  mine. 


ANON. 


SLEEP 

A  Fair  Good-Night 

To  all,  to  each,  a  fair  good-night, 

And  pleasant  dreams  and  slumbers  light! 

—  SCOTT 


SOLDIERS 

A  Woman's  Toast 

The  soldiers  of  America, 
Their  arms  our  defense. 
Our  anns  their  recompense  — 
Fall  in,  men;    fall  in! 

—  ANON. 

C138] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


STJRS  AND  STRIPES 

Our  Flag 

The  Lily  of  France  may  fade, 
The  Thistle  and  Shamrock  wither, 

The  Oak  of  England  may  decay. 
But  the  Stars  shine  on  forever. 


SUMMER 

To  June  and  Summer  Time 

When  blue  bells  ring  their  merry  chime 
Announcing  June  and  summer  time 
And  dancing  brooks  their  carols  sing 
Prophetic  of  the  passing  spring 
We'll  pluck  a  golden  buttercup 
And  with  the  dew  we'll  fill  it  up, 
And  drink  a  health  to  happy  hours  — 
To  singing  birds;    to  fragrant  flowers. 

ANON. 


[139] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


TEMPERANCE 

A  Welcome  Back 

A  MAN  may  drink,  and  no  be  drunk; 

A  man  may  fight,  and  no  be  slain; 
A  man  may  kiss  a  bonnie  lass. 

And  aye  be  welcome  back  again. 

BURNS 


Moderation  In  All  Things 

I  TAKES  my  pipe,  I  takes  my  pot; 

And  drunk  I  am  never  seen  to  be; 
Fm  no  teetotaler,  or  sot, 

And  as  I  am  I  mean  to  be. 

—  GILBERT 


WATER 

The  True  Toper 

A  FIG  then  for  Burgundy,  Claret  or  Mountain, 

A  few  scanty  glasses  must  limit  your  wish; 

But  he's  the  true  toper  that  goes  to  the  fountain, 

The  drinker  that  verily  "drinks  like  a  fish!" 

—  hood 
[140] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


WINE 

All  In  Drink 

We'll  have  it  all  in  drink;  let  meat  and  lodg- 
ing go;  they  are  transitory  and  show  men  merely 
mortal. 

—  BEAUMONT   and   FLETCHER 


And  Another 

Here's  to  a  long  life  and  a  merry  one, 
A  quick  death  and  a  happy  one, 
A  good  girl  and  a  pretty  one, 
A  cold  bottle  and  another  one. 

—  anon. 


Another  Day 

Let  us  have  wine  and  women,  mirth  and  laughter. 
Sermons  and  soda-water  the  day  after. 

BYRON 

• 

Bottle  and  Friend 

Here's  to  a  bottle  and  an  honest  friend; 
What  would  you  wish  for  more,  man.? 

[141] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Who  knows  before  his  Hfe  may  end 
What  his  share  may  be  of  care,  man. 

—  BURNS 

• 

Drink  and  Be  Merry 

Drink,  my  jolly  lads,  drink  with  discerning, 
Wedlock's  a  lane  where  there  is  no  turning; 
Never  was  owl  more  blind  than  lover; 
Drink  and  be  merry,  lads;    half  seas  over. 

—  MULOCK 


Fill  High! 

Then  fill  the  cup,  fill  high!  fill  high! 

Nor  spare  the  rosy  wine, 
If  death  be  in  the  cup,  we'll  die  — 

Such  death  would  be  divine. 

—  LOWELL 


For  the  Hour-Glass 

Say,  why  did  Time 
His  glass  sublime 

Fill  up  with  sands,  unsightly. 

[  142  ] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

When  wine  he  knew 
Runs  brisker  through 

And  sparkles  far  more  brightly? 

—  MOORE 


Had  I  The  Power 

O,  LITTLE  fishes  of  the  sea, 

Had  I  the  power  divine, 
I'd  turn  you  into  silver  cups, 

And  your  sea  to  purple  wine. 

—  ANON. 


In  the  Goblet  Alone 

Fill  the  goblet  again;    for  I  never  before 

Felt  the  glow  which  now  gladdens  my  heart  to 

its  core. 
Let  us  drink;  who  would  not?  since  through  life's 

varied  round 
In  the  goblet  alone  no  deception  is  found. 

—  BYRON 


[143] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

No  Sting 

Friend  of  my  soul!    this  goblet  sip  — 

'Twill  chase  the  pensive  tear; 
*Tis  not  so  sweet  as  a  woman's  lip, 

But  O!    'tis  more  sincere. 
Like  her  delusive  beam, 

'Twill  steal  away  the  mind; 
But  unlike  affection's  dream. 

It  leaves  no  sting  behind. 

—  MOORE 

* 

Our  Sun 

This  bottle's  the  sun  of  our  table. 

His  beams  are  rosy  wine; 
We,  planets  that  are  not  able 

Without  his  help  to  shine. 

—  SHERIDAN 

* 

Pegasus 

If  with  water  you  fill  up  your  glasses. 
You'll  never  write  anything  wise; 

For  wine  is  the  horse  of  Parnassus, 
Which  hurries  a  bard  to  the  skies. 

—  MOORE 

C144] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Salvation 

Strong  ale  was  ablution. 
Small  beer  persecution, 

A  drum  was  memento  mori; 
But  a  full-flowing  bowl 
Was  the  saving  his  soul, 

And  port  was  celestial  glory. 


—  BURNS 


The  Big-Bellied  Bottle 

No  churchman  am  I  for  to  rail  and  to  write; 
No  statesman  nor  soldier  to  plot  or  to  fight; 
No  sly  man  of  business  contriving  a  snare, 
For  a  big-bellied  bottle's  the  whole  of  my  care. 

—  BURNS 
* 

The  Bumper 

Fill  the  bumper  fair! 

Every  drop  we  sprinkle 
O'er  the  brow  of  care 

Smoothes  away  a  wrinkle. 
Wit's  electric  flame 

Ne'er  so  swiftly  passes 
[145  3 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

As  when  through  the  frame 

It  shoots  from  brimming  glasses. 

—  MOORE 


The  Captain's  Taste 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  Captain  Wattle? 
He  was  all  for  love  and  a  little  bottle. 

—  dibden 

* 

The  Loving  Cup 

Thus   circling  the  cup,   hand  in   hand,   ere  we 
drink. 
Let    sympathy   pledge    us,    through    pleasure, 
through  pain. 
That,  fast  as  feeling  but  touches  one  link. 
Her  magic  shall  send   it   direct   through   the 
chain. 

MOORE 

• 

The  Wife's  Query 

Then  fill   a   fair  and  honest   cup,   and   bear  it 

straight  to  me; 
The  goblet  hallows  all  it  holds,   what  e'er  the 

liquid  be, 

C146] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

And  may  the  cherubs  on  its   face,   protect  me 

from  the  sin 
That  dooms  me  to  those  dreadful  words,   "My 

dear,  where  have  you  been?" 

—  HOLMES 

* 

To  Folly 

Now,  down  with  care  and  blithely  swear 

A  truce  to  melancholy; 
Let  each  good  soul  fill  up  his  bowl 

And  drink  a  toast  to  folly! 

—  POWELL 

* 

To  Joy 

Then  fill  the  glass  —  away  with  gloom, 
Our  joys  shall  always  last; 
For  hope  will  brighten  days  to  come. 
And  memory  guild  the  past. 

—  MOORE 

* 

To  Noah 

So  a  cup  ere  we  part  to  the  man  of  our  heart. 
Old  Noah,  the  primitive  grower  of  wine; 
And  one  brimming  cup  (nay,  fill  it  quite  up). 
To  the  angel  who  gave  him  the  seed  of  the  vine. 

—  SAXE 

C147] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Twin  Aches 

'TwEEN  woman  and  wine  a  man's  lot  is  to  smart. 
For  wine  makes  his  head  ache,  and  woman  his 
heart. 

—  ANON. 


While  Able 

Here,  waiter,  more  wine,  let  me  sit  while  I'm  able. 
Till  all  my  companions  sink  under  the  table. 

—  GOLDSMITH 


While  You  May 

Drink  to-day  and  drown  all  sorrow;' 
You  shall  perhaps  not  do't  to-morrow; 
Best  while  you  have  it,  use  your  breath. 
There  is  no  drinking  after  death. 

—  BEAUMONT   and   FLETCHER 


:i48] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 


WOMAN 

All  Together 

Let  her  be  clumsy,  or  let  her  be  slim, 
Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather; 

So  fill  up  a  bumper,  nay,  fill  to  the  brim. 
Let  us  toast  all  the  ladies  together. 

—  ANON. 


A  Reasonable  Woman 

I  know  the  thing  that's  most  uncommon; 

(Envy  be  silent  and  attend) 
I  know  a  reasonable  woman. 
Handsome,  and  witty,  yet  a  friend. 

—  POPE 

* 

A  Woman  Perfected 
Earth's  noblest  thing  —  a  woman  perfected. 

—  LOWELL 


[149] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 


Except 


Here's  to  woman,  the  sweetheart,  the  wife, 
The  delight  of  our  firesides  by  night  and  by 
day. 

Who  never  does  anjrthing  wrong  in  her  life, 
Except  when  permitted  to  have  her  own  way. 

—  HALLECK 


Excuse  for  the  Glass 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 

Here's  to  the  widow  of  fifty. 
Here's  to  the  flaunting  extravagant  queen. 

And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 

Let  the  toast  pass. 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
ril  warrant  she* II  -prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

Heres'  to  the  charmer  whose  dimples  we  prize. 
Here's  to  the  maid  who  has  none,  sir. 
Here's  to  the  girl  with  a  pair  of  blue  eyes, 
And  here's  to  the  nymph  with  but  one,  sir. 

Let  the  toast  pass. 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
rU  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass, 

[ISO] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  bosom  of  snow, 
Now  to  her  that's  as  brown  as  a  berry. 
Here's  to  the  wife  with  a  face  full  of  woe. 
And  now  to  the  damsel  that's  merry. 

Let  the  toast  pass^ 
Drink  to  the  lass^ 
ril  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

For  let  'em  be  clumsy,  or  let  *em  be  thin. 
Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather. 
So  fill  up  up  your  glasses,  nay,  fill  to  the  brim, 
And  let  us  e'en  toast  'em  together. 

Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
ril  warrant  she* II  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

—  SHERroAN 

• 

Garland  of  Love 

Honored  be  woman !   she  beams  on  the  sight,  • 
Graceful  and  fair,  like  a  being  of  light, 
Scatters  around  her  wherever  she  strays, 
Roses  of  bliss  on  our  thorn-covered  ways  — 
Roses  of  paradise  fresh  from  above. 
To  be  gathered  and  twined  in  a  garland  of  love. 

—  HOOD 


>» 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

Her  Charms 

She  is  pretty  to  walk  with, 
She  is  pretty  to  talk  with, 
And  pleasant,  too,  to  think  on. 

—  SUCKLING 

* 

Her  Contrariety 

Here's  to  woman,  the  source  of  all  our  bliss* 

There's  a  foretaste  of  heaven  in  her  kiss; 

But  from  the  queen  upon  her  throne,  to  the  maid 

in  the  dairy. 
They  are  all  alike,  in  one  respect  —  "contrary. 

—  ANON. 

* 

Her  Eyes 

Here's  to  the  girl  with  eyes  of  blue. 

Whose  heart  is  kind  and  love  is  true; 
Here's  to  the  girl  with  eyes  of  brown, 

Whose  spirit  proud  you  cannot  down; 
Here's  to  the  girl  with  eyes  of  gray. 

Whose  sunny  smile  drives  care  away; 
Whate'er  the  hue  of  their  eyes  may  be, 

I'll  drink  to  the  girls  this  toast  with  thee! 

—  ANON. 
C152] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Her  Fickleness 

I'm  convinced  a  woman  can 

Love  this,  or  that,  or  any  other  man; 

This  day  she's  melting  hot. 

To-morrow  swears  she  knows  you  not; 

If  she  but  a  new  object  find, 

Then  straight  she's  of  another  mind. 

—  SUCKLING 


Her  Place 

They  talk  about  a  woman's  sphere  as  though  it 

had  a  limit; 
There's  not  a  place  on  earth  or  heaven, 
There's  not  a  task  to  mankind  given. 
There's  not  a  blessing  or  a  woe, 
There's  not  a  whispered  yes  or  no, 
There's  not  a  life  or  birth, 
That  has  a  feather's  weight  of  worth  — 
Without  a  woman  in  it. 

—  ANON. 


ri53] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

In  the  Home 

Woman!   with  that  word. 

In  the  green  bower  of  home. 

Truth,  beauty,  love,  in  her  adored. 
And  earth's  lost  paradise  restored. 

Life's  dearest  hopes  and  memories  come; 

—  HALLECK 


Look  On  Her  Face 

Bright  as  the  sun  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike, 
And  like  the  sun  they  shine  on  all  alike. 
Yet  graceful  ease  and  sweetness  void  of  pride 
Might  hide  her  faults  if  belles  had  faults  to  hide. 
If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall 
Look  on  her,,  face  and  you'll  forget  them  all. 

—  POPE 

• 

Naval  Toast 

Here's  to  our  sweethearts  and  our  wives; 
May  our  sweethearts  soon  become  our  wives 
And  our  wives  ever  remain  our  sweethearts. 

—  anon. 

LiS4] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

Pearl  of  All  Things 

O  PEARL  of  all  things,  woman !    Adored  by  the 

artist  who  created  thee. 

—  schiller 

Place  Aux  Dames 

And  when  a  lady's  in  the  case 

You  know  all  other  things  give  place. 

—  GAY 

* 

Superlative 

O  FAIREST  of  creation!    last  and  best 
Of  all  God's  works!    Creature  in  whom  excelled 
Whatever  can  to  sight  or  thought  be  form'd, 
Holy,  divine,  good,  amiable,  or  sweet. 

—  MILTON 

• 

The  Lasses 

And  nature  swears,  the  lovely  dears 
Her  noblest  work  she  classes,  O; 
Her  'prentice  hand  she  tried  on  man, 
And  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O. 

—  BURNS 

CiS5] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

The  Modern  Woman 

At  last 

She  rose  ufjon  a  wind  of  prophecy, 

Dilating  on  the  future. 

—  TENNYSON 


The  Paragon 

I  FILL  this  cup  to  one  made  up 

Of  loveliness  alone, 
A  woman  of  her  gentle  sex 

The  seeming  paragon; 
To  whom  the  better  elements 

And  kindly  stars  have  given 
A  form  so  fair  that,  like  the  air, 

'Tis  less  of  earth  than  heaven. 

Her  health!    And  would  on  earth  there  stood 

Some  more  of  such  a  frame, 
That  life  might  be  all  poetry. 

And  weariness  a  name. 

—  pinkney 


C156] 


TOASTS  AND  SENTIMENTS 

The  Supreme  Faithfulness 

Talk  about  the  devotion  of  the  sex,  but  the 
most  faithful  attachment  in  Hfe  is  that  of  a 
woman  in  love  —  with  herself. 

—  LYTTON 


Those  Eyes 

Those  eyes  whose  light  seemed  rather  given 

To  be  adored  than  to  adore  — 
Such  eyes  as  may  have  looked  from  heaven, 

But  ne'er  were  raised  to  it  before. 

MOORE 


To  THE  Composite  Her 

Now,  with  wine  as  is  due,  let  the  honors  be  paid, 
Whilst  I  give  my  hand,  heart  and  head; 

Here's  to  her,  the  fond  mother,  dear  partner,  kind 
maid. 
Who  first  taught  me  to  love,  woo  and  wed. 

—  HOOD 


C157] 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

To  Thee 

While  there's  life  on  the  lip,  while  there's  warmth 

in  the  wine, 
One  deep  health  Fll  pledge,  and  that  health  shall 

be  thine. 

—  MEREDITH 

• 

Whom  Each  Loves  Best 

Drink  ye  to  her  that  each  loves  best; 

And  if  you  nurse  a  flame 
That's  told  but  to  her  mutual  breast. 

We  will  not  ask  her  name. 

—  CAMPBELL 


CiS8] 


FORMS  FOR  SPEECHES 


FORMS  FOR  SPEECHES 

'ERE  are  presented  numerous 
forms  of  speeches,  suitable  for  use 
on  various  occasions.  Each  is 
complete  in  itself,  and  merely  re- 
quires memorizing.  These  set  addresses  have 
been  very  carefully  prepared  by  one  who  is 
accustomed  to  speech-making,  and  they  will, 
therefore,  be  found  satisfactory,  since  they 
have  the  proper  character  for  oral  delivery, 
which  is  something  quite  different  oftentimes 
from  the  quality  that  distinguishes  the  written 
discourse.  The  addresses  are  distinctly  of  a 
sort  that  may  be  delivered  with  the  effect  of 
being  extemporaneous. 

Care  has  been  used  to  make  the  form  in 
every  instance  of  the  broadest  possible  char- 
acter. Owing  to  this  fact,  their  usefulness  is 
greatly  extended,  without  close  restrictions  of 

[i6i] 


SPEECHES 

time  and  locality.  Indeed,  any  one  of  the 
collection  might  be  available  for  occasions 
other  than  that  designated  by  the  heading. 
Moreover,  pains  have  been  taken  to  avoid 
repetitions,  and  by  reason  of  this  fact  two  or 
more  of  the  forms  may  be  joined  to  make  a 
single  discourse  when  the  occasion  demands 
an  oration.  The  choice  of  subjects  has  been 
made  with  a  view  to  listing  those  of  chief 
importance,  and  it  results  from  this  that  a 
great  variety  of  occasions  not  specifically  des- 
ignated by  the  titles  are,  nevertheless,  so 
related  to  them  that  the  set  forms  will  prove 
available  unfailingly. 

The  general  nature  of  the  addresses  Is  some- 
what serious,  since  this  is  fitting  to  many  of 
the  particular  occasions  included  in  the  list. 
It  will  be  noted,  however,  that  there  are 
lighter  touches  when  these  are  justified  by  the 
occasion.  In  addition,  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  these  forms  put  no  restraint  on  the 
ambitious  speaker.  They  are  intended  for  the 
convenience  of  anyone  who  finds  himself 
under  the  necessity  of  delivering  an  address 

[162] 


FORMS  FOR  SPEECHES 

while  unprepared  either  from  inclination  or 
inability.  They  are  purposely  made  short 
enough  to  permit  of  easy  memorizing,  while 
they  are  still  long  enough  fully  to  answer  the 
requirements  of  the  occasion.  But  individual 
preference  and  ability  may  choose  to  adapt 
them  and  to  enlarge  them.  Especially,  an 
ambitious  speaker  may  avail  himself  of  the 
material  here  offered,  and  yet  make  it  really 
his  own  by  such  alterations  and  additions  as 
shall  appeal  to  him.  In  this  direction,  the 
most  important  point  will  be  the  improve- 
ment of  any  particular  address  by  appropriate 
references  to  local  conditions  and  matters  of 
timeliness.  Thus,  in  an  address  on  Decora^ 
tion  Day,  specific  mention  of  the  valor  dis- 
played by  the  soldiery  in  that  community 
where  the  exercises  are  held.  So,  too,  at  a 
family  reunion  there  should  be  some  enum-  , 
eration  of  the  exploits  of  members  of  the 
clan,  and  these  narratives  may  be  either  grave 
or  gay,  preferably  both.  It  is  well  to  pay  a 
tribute  to  the  greatness  of  the  famous  divine 
or  the  bravery  of  the  doughty  general^  but  it 

[163] 


SPEECHES 

is  also  well  to  cite  a  mythical  relation  who 
beat  all  his  eight  wives,  or  of  the  real  ancestor 
who  was  hanged  for  sheep-stealing.  In  any- 
way possible,  there  should  be  an  effort  to  deck 
the  bare  form  with  allusions  of  a  familiar 
kind,  calculated  to  interest  and  please  the 
hearers,  to  arouse  in  them  a  personal  sympa- 
thy with  the  speaker's  thought. 

In  the  preceding  portion  of  this  volume, 
ample  instruction  has  been  given  as  to  the 
method  for  making  use  of  the  funny  story  in 
a  speech.  Those  directions  are  all  equally 
applicable  in  connection  with  these  set  forms. 
For  example,  at  the  outset  of  an  address  on 
Lincoln's  Birthday,  it  would  be  quite  suit- 
able to  tell  any  preferred  humorous  anecdote, 
and  follow  it  by  the  statement  that  the  story 
has  been  attributed  to  Abraham  Lincoln. 
This  would  be  true,  in  all  probability,  since 
the  number  of  good  stories  credited  to  that 
great  man  is  beyond  all  counting.  Of  course, 
in  such  case,  the  law  of  timeliness  must  be 
regarded.  It  would  not  do  thus  to  quote  a 
tale  of  flying  machines  or  submarines  or  radio- 

[164] 


FORMS  FOR  SPEECHES 

telephones.  Similarly,  essentially  any  story 
that  is  really  amusing  may  be  made  applicable 
to  the  particular  occasion  by  the  use  of  a  little 
ingenuity,  following  the  instructions  pre- 
viously given  on  the  subject. 

Use  is  to  be  made  at  pleasure  of  any  de- 
sired extracts  from  the  list  of  toasts  and  sen- 
timents, for  the  purpose  of  adorning  the 
address  on  any  particular  occasion. 


[165] 


NEW  YEAR'S    DAY 

THE  New  Year!  The  dates  of  the 
calendar  are  as  the  milestones  for 
man's  journey  through  life.  On  a 
certain  day  in  a  certain  year,  a  child 
was  born;  the  child  grows  to  maturity,  lives 
out  its  appointed  span,  and  then,  on  a  certain 
day  in  a  certain  year,  dies.  The  vital  events 
are  noted  according  to  the  calendar.  Births, 
marriages  and  deaths  are  recorded  in  the  fam- 
ily Bible — in  the  bureau  of  vital  statistics. 
Life  is  measured  by  its  years.  Every  year  is 
a  cycle  complete  in  itself,  a  cycle  of  months, 
weeks,  days,  hours,  minutes,  seconds.  New 
Year's  Day  is  both  a  beginning  and  an  end. 
It  marks  the  conclusion  of  one  such  cycle, 
it  marks  the  beginning  of  another.  Thus, 
the  day  has  a  peculiar,  a  striking  signifi- 
cance for  every  individual.  This  anniver- 
sary  compels    the   deep    attention    of    every 

[166I 


NEW  YEAR'S  DAY 

one  of  us.  It  compels  us  to  reflect  on 
the  cycle  that  is  ended,  and,  as  well,  to 
consider  carefully  the  new  cycle  that  is  open- 
ing. Naturally,  there  is  review  of  the  past, 
anticipation  of  the  future.  We  are  blest  in- 
deed if  we  are  able  to  gain  wisdom  from  a 
study  of  our  experiences  through  the  days 
that  are  gone,  and  to  apply  that  wisdom  in 
the  ruling  of  our  conduct  through  the  days  to 
come.  Such  wisdom  is  garnered  not  only 
from  happiness,  but  also,  and  in  chief  meas- 
ure, from  the  bitterest  trials  of  life.  Often, 
indeed,  a  clear  vision  looks  back  over  the 
years,  and  beholds  in  the  most  grievous  sor- 
rows so  difficultly  endured  the  means  whereby 
character  was  purified,  whereby  the  spirit 
grew  and  took  on  strength  to  achieve. 

Just  because  the  New  Year  carries  with  it 
this  impulse  to  examine  the  past  and  to  plan 
the  future,  it  is  inevitably  a  time  of  keen  re- 
grets as  well  as  of  high  aspirations.  A  can- 
did survey  of  things  done  must  show  even  the 
best  among  us  faults  both  of  commission  and 
of  omission.     It  follows,  of  course,  that  in 

[167] 


SPEECHES 

planning  the  future,  the  repetition  of  such 
faults  is  denied  a  place.  Hence,  New  Year 
resolutions. 

Now,  New  Year  resolutions  are  good  or 
bad  according  to  the  circumstances.  Of 
course,  the  particular  resolve  may  be  taken 
for  granted  as  meant  to  be  an  improvement 
in  conduct.  The  quality  of  good  or  bad, 
therefore,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned  has  to 
do  with  the  future  history  of  the  resolution.  It 
being  admitted  that  the  resolution  itself  is 
admirable  it  is  a  good  resolution  if  it  is  kept; 
it  is  a  bad  resolution  if  it  is  broken.  The 
reason  is  that  lieing  is  a  vicious  thing.  The 
breaking  of  a  promise  is  the  worst  sort  of  lie- 
ing. The  breaking  of  a  promise  to  one's  self 
has  a  guilt  all  its  own.  It  means  a  flabby  will. 
The  flabby  will  is  a  foe  to  righteousness.  To 
be  sure,  many  persons  of  strong  will  are  evil, 
but  we  may  be  sure  that  no  weak  and  vacillat- 
ing person  can  be  a  saint.  The  late  Professor 
James,  the  eminent  psychologist,  was  vehe- 
ment in  denouncing  the  evil  of  broken  reso- 
lutions by  reason  of  their  destructive  effect 

[i68] 


NEW  YEAR'S  DAY 

on  the  will  power.  It  is  better  for  the  char- 
acter to  make  no  resolutions  for  the  New 
Year,  if  any  is  to  be  broken.  A  single  reso- 
lution carefully  maintained  is  excellent:  a 
dozen  broken  are  not  only  absurd,  they  are 
profoundly  injurious  to  the  maker  and  breaker 
of  them.  The  desire  for  improvement  is  a 
wholesome  thing,  and  its  manifestation  at  the 
New  Year  season  deserves  every  encourage- 
ment. But  enthusiasm  for  reform  should  be 
checked  by  prudence.  Before  the  pledge  is 
made,  the  cost  of  fulfillment  should  be  most 
carefully  considered,  and  there  should  be  an 
honest  estimate  of  the  courage  required  of  the 
ability  to  deny  habit  and  desire  for  the  sake 
of  principle.  The  resolution  deliberately 
formed  and  conscientiously  carried  out  is  of 
vast  value  in  the  building  of  character. 

At  this  season,  as  another  year  begins,  we 
take  comfort  from  the  fact  that  we  are  still 
alive,  and  we  celebrate  joyously.  The  spirit 
of  the  occasion  is  exhibited  in  family  re- 
unions, in  community  gatherings,  in  social 
gaieties  of  diverse  sorts.     The  whole  nation 

[169] 


SPEECHES 

honors  the  opening  of  the  New  Year  as  a 
national  festival.  And  not  our  nation  alone. 
Through  all  history,  all  races  have  alike  done 
honor  to  the  date  that  marked  the  beginning 
of  their  year.  Though  that  date  itself  has 
varied  v^^idely,  the  spirit  animating  different 
peoples  has  always  been  the  same.  That  spirit 
is  the  one  that  now  animates  us.  There  is  a 
deeper  feeling  than  that  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  which  has  to  do  with  religion.  Stress 
is  laid  on  this  in  every  church,  and  it  is  a  fact 
that  all  the  religions  of  the  world  have  sanc- 
tified this  season. 

Reference  to  other  calendars  remind  me  that 
our  own  is  not  perfect,  We  have  changed  it 
often  enough,  but  it  is  still  defective.  Once 
in  four  years,  we  must  add  an  extra  day  in 
February  to  keep  our  dates  harmonious  with 
those  of  nature.  But  that  defect  gives  a  sin- 
gle touch  of  variety  to  the  otherwise  monot- 
onous repetitions  of  the  calendar  year. 
Incidentally,  leap  year  has  the  traditional 
merit  of  generously  offering  opportunity  to 
all  love-lorn  maiden  ladies. 

£  170] 


NEW  YEAR'S  DAY 

My  friends,  let  us  aspire,  yet  fairly  within 
the  measure  of  our  powers;  let  us  resolve 
yet  discreetly;   above  all  let  us  achieve. 

To  the  New  Year,  our  endeavor,  our  at- 
tainment! 


[171] 


LINCOLN'S  BIRTHDAY 

NO  holiday  could  be  more  worthy 
than  this.  It  is  devoted  to  the 
memory  of  a  man  who  is  unique  in 
history.  He  was  one  to  whom  came 
a  most  tremendous  opportunity  for  service  to 
his  fellows;  he  was  one  who  proved  himself 
adequate  to  the  mastery  of  a  situation  of  su- 
preme trial. 

It  is  well  to  reflect  with  appreciative  care 
on  the  character  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  He 
was  such  a  product  of  our  American  Democ- 
racy as  no  other  country  could  duplicate. 
He  typified  in  his  person  that  possibility  of 
achievement  which  is  our  pride.  His  origin 
was  of  the  humblest;  he  enjoyed  in  his  youth 
no  advantages  whatsoever,  as  we  understand 
the  term.  Poverty  would  have  left  him  to 
illiterate  obscurity,  but  for  the  fact  that  he 
possessed  a  burning  desire  to  go  forward,  on- 

C172] 


LINCOLN'S  BIRTHDAY 

ward,  upward.  He  had,  too,  an  inexhaustible 
energy  with  which  to  fight  for  the  attainment 
of  his  desire.  He  won  education  by  sheer  force 
of  perseverance,  a  perseverance  that  was  in- 
domitable. Who  of  us  but  has  a  mental  pic- 
ture of  the  lanky  youth  poring  over  a  borrowed 
book  in  the  night  hours,  reading  by  the  un- 
certain light  of  the  fire  on  the  cabin  hearth. 
There  is  inspiration  to  every  ambitious 
young  man  in  the  life  story  of  Lincoln.  It 
would  seem,  indeed,  that  there  was  nothing  in 
his  favor.  Surely  no  one  ever  had  less  aid 
from  his  environment  for  the  building  of  a 
career;  no  one  ever  had  set  before  him  more 
and  greater  obstacles  in  the  race  for  suprem- 
acy. Lincoln's  one  mighty  asset  was  the 
noble  spirit  that  was  within  him.  It  was  a 
spirit  keen  to  strive,  indomitable,  righteous. 
It  was  this  spirit  that  drew  other  men  to  him, 
that  made  them  appreciate  and  honor  both 
his  powder  and  his  love  of  the  right.  It  was 
this  spirit  that  compelled  the  trust  of  a  mul- 
titude of  his  fellows,  who  turned  over  to  him 
guardianship   of  our  nation.     How  he  dis- 

[173] 


SPEECHES 

charged  his  duties  through  years  of  bloody 
stress  is  a  record  so  simple  that  it  is  familiar 
to  every  schoolboy,  and  it  is  a  record  so  won- 
derful that  all  true  men  do  reverence  to  the 
name  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  His  whole  life 
stands  in  a  beauty  all  its  own  for  devoted 
service  to  his  country  and  to  his  fellow  men. 
His  death  was  the  final  sacrifice  on  the  altar 
of  patriotism. 

Let  us,  then,  remember  this  martyred  presi- 
dent with  a  loving  veneration  that  shall  thrill 
us  to  deeper  appreciation  of  the  blessings  that 
are  ours,  that  shall  thrill  us  also  to  a  keener 
realization  of  our  duties  as  fellow  citizens  of 
that  great  man,  to  more  earnest  fulfillment. 


[^74] 


SAINT  VALENTINE'S  DAY 

ALL  the  world  loves  a  lover.  Saint 
Valentine  specialized  in  just  that 
sort  of  thing.  A  noble  career  for 
a  saint,  if  you  ask  me.  For  what 
is  there  more  interesting  than  the  infinite 
vagaries  of  true  love?  And  it  is  only  in  be- 
half of  true  lovers  that  the  saint  bestirs  him- 
self. 

It  is,  indeed,  love  that  makes  the  world  go 
round.  Love,  in  the  right  use  of  the  word, 
is  always  true  love.  Not  only  does  love  make 
the  world  go  round,  it  makes  life  worth  liv- 
ing— simply  love,  nothing  else,  makes  beau- 
tiful the  whole  universe.  Life  is,  in  fact,  a 
dreary,  sordid  and  fruitless  grind  without  it. 
Merely  to  eat  and  to  drink,  to  be  clothed, 
to  toil  at  the  gaining  of  such  necessities  are 
pursuits  gross  and  earthly  in  themselves  that 
bring  the  doer  to  nothingness  of  themselves. 

[175] 


SPEECHES 

They  become  ennobled  when  love  is  the  mo- 
tive underlying  every  activity.  Such  love 
may  be  of  home  and  family,  of  country,  of 
duty,  of  one's  fellow  man,  of  God.  In  its 
noblest  expression,  it  may  be  all  of  these. 

The  kindly  old  saint,  however,  confines  his 
interest  to  the  love  affairs  of  a  man  and  a  maid. 
He  is  broad  enough,  let  us  hope,  to  make  age 
no  barrier.  He  is  tolerant  toward  the  man 
who  is  so  young  that  we  more  experienced 
ones  term  his  emotion  calf-love,  or  even 
puppy-love.  And  the  saint  is  tolerant,  also, 
to  the  maid  whom  we  brutally  term  old.  We 
are  not  so  charitable.  We  are  likely  to  sneer 
when  the  choice  of  lovers  does  not  meet  our 
personal  ideas  of  what  is  fitting.  We  refer 
to  May  and  December  when  there  is  differ- 
ence of  years.  We  are  scornful  concerning  the 
lover  with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  so  to  speak, 
and  the  other  slipping.  And,  too,  we  are  fond 
of  saying:  *'Now,  what  can  he  see  in  her?" 
or:  'What  can  she  see  in  him?"  The  old 
Indian  was  more  philosophical  in  his  appre- 
ciation  of   variousness   in   mankind,    for   he 

[176] 


SAINT  VALExNTINE'S  DAY 

thanked  the  Great  Spirit  that  all  red  men  were 
not  as  he,  since  in  that  case  every  other  brave 
would  have  wanted  his  squaw.  It  might  be 
well  for  us  to  copy  after  Saint  Valentine  in 
gentle  tolerance  of  the  foibles  of  other  folks 
in  their  fancies. 

Let  us  give  thanks  to  Saint  Valentine.  We 
need  him.  More  power  to  his  arm — to  his 
brain.  The  lovers  need  him  to  smooth  the 
way  to  marriage.  They  need  him  still  more  to 
smooth  the  way  after  they  are  married.  Of 
old,  romances  wrote  of  a  youth  and  a  maiden, 
but  ended  the  chronicle  with  the  announce- 
ment: "Thus  they  were  married  and  lived 
happy  ever  afterward."  Nowadays,  the  nov- 
elists begin  with  the  marriage,  and  exploit 
their  living  unhappy  ever  afterward  up  to 
the  divorce  court.  The  modern  romance  de- 
lights in  seizing  on  a  couple  old  enough  to 
know  better,  and  making  them  do  worse. 

I  doubt  not  that  this  very  day  Saint  Valen- 
tine is  growing  thin.  It  must  be  a  strenuous 
time  for  him  with  grandmama  bunny-hugging 
in  the  cabaret,  and  silly  chits,  of  flapper  age, 

[177] 


SPEECHES 

but  now  so  powdered  and  rouged  and  bobbed, 
with  little  time  for  lessons  in  their  business 
of  vamping  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry.  Never- 
theless, though  he  may  grow  thin.  Saint  Val- 
entine will  save  the  situation,  will  restore 
sound  sense  to  his  proteges.  He  will  be  able 
to  do  this  because,  in  spite  of  all  extrava- 
gances of  the  moment,  the  hearts  of  old  and 
young  alike  are  still  sound.  They  are  so  sound 
that  they  will  function  normally,  which  means 
that  lovers  will  continue  to  love  deeply,  to 
trust  completely,  to  hope  absurdly,  to  marry 
foolishly,  to  live  wisely — perhaps  to  die  con- 
tentedly. 

Hail  blessed  Saint  Valentine  1 


[178] 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON'S    BIRTH- 
DAY 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  the 
Father  of  Our  Country.  The 
term  in  itself  is  one  of  supreme 
honor,  of  love,  of  reverence. 
Every  parent  finds  a  personal  satisfaction  in 
the  right  achievement  attained  by  his  own 
offspring.  In  a  sense,  what  is  wrought  by  the 
children  is  the  performance  of  the  parents. 
The  intimate  relation  that  always  exists  be- 
tween parent  and  child  is  such  that  to  claim 
it  voluntarily  is  a  final  proof  of  deepest  af- 
fection. It  is  thus  that  our  nation  has  borne 
witness  to  its  love  for  Washington.  It  has 
called  him  father.  That  designation  is  of 
itself  full  evidence  of  the  veneration  with 
which  the  citizens  of  these  United  States  have 
always  regarded,  and  do  still  regard,  and  will 
continue  to  regard,  the  man  to  whose  saga- 
cious leadership  they  chiefly  owe  their  being. 

[179] 


SPEECHES 

In  his  "Outline  of  History,"  the  English 
writer,  Wells,  confines  comment  on  Washing- 
ton to  the  statement  that  the  man  was  lazy. 
Such  an  assertion  smirches  the  reputation  of 
Wells,  not  of  Washington.  Its  absurdity  is 
patent  to  any  intelligent  person — except  Wells. 
George  Washington  was  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  our  army  during  the  Revolutionary 
War.  The  task  imposed  on  him  in  this  posi- 
tion was  no  light  one.  On  the  contrary,  his 
duties  imposed  on  him  a  burden  sufficient  to 
crush  body,  mind  and  spirit  of  any  save  the 
strongest.  Here  was  no  place  for  indolence. 
No  lazy  man  could  have  marshaled  our  tat- 
tered and  hungry  troops  to  victory.  The  re- 
quirement was  for  a  general  against  whom 
physical  fatigue  was  powerless,  whose  mind 
was  competent  to  devise  a  way  out  of  the 
worst  perils,  whose  spirit  remained  undaunted 
in  every  crisis.  And  afterward,  as  our  Presi- 
dent, this  man  of  destiny  could  still  find  no  op- 
portunity for  that  ease  of  which  the  English 
writer  has  so  curious  a  fancy.  In  that  early 
period  of   our  history,   even   as  to-day,   the 

[i8o] 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY 

presidency  ofifered  of  sinecure.  The  life  of 
the  Chief  Executive  day  by  day  was  of  the 
fullest,  with  every  moment  of  the  waking 
hours  occupied  by  the  necessities  of  control 
for  that  great  enterprise,  a  daring  scheme  of 
government  new  to  the  history  of  the  world. 
Then,  as  now,  the  life  of  the  President  was 
one  of  arduous  and  unceasing  toil.  Back  of 
all  else,  there  was  then,  just  as  there  is  to-day, 
the  strain  of  a  tremendous  responsibility.  The 
head  of  our  Government  can  never  be  a  lazy 
man,  nor  ever  could. 

Moreover,  apart  from  the  exigencies  of  the 
position  itself,  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  fact 
that  the  lazy  man  can  never  become  the  leader. 
Indolence  cannot  long  disguise  itself.  The 
slothful  individual  is  known  as  such  to  his 
fellows.  It  is  inevitable  that  they  should  re- 
ject his  guidance  in  the  conduct  of  afifairs. 
Even  a  political  boss  cannot  be  a  lazy  man. 
Were  he  such,  he  could  never  attain  domi- 
nance over  his  party.  Political  control  de- 
mands not  only  shrewdness,  but  also  energy 
enough  to  be  always  busy.    No  more  can  the 

[i8i] 


SPEECHES 

Statesman  indulge  a  liking  for  idleness. 
Statesman  and  politician  alike  must  be  zeal- 
ous in  action  if  they  would  attain  their  ends. 
It  is  safe  to  declare  that  no  lazy  man  could 
ever  be  so  much  even  as  nominated  for  the 
office  of  President  of  the  United  States. 

As  the  parent  finds  pleasure  in  the  great 
things  accomplished  by  a  child,  so  the  spirit 
of  the  Father  of  Our  Country  must  feel  both 
joy  and  triumph,  along  with  much  wonder, 
over  the  progress  of  this  nation;  he  may  well 
find  gratification  in  the  development  of  the 
nation.  Though  our  faults  be  many,  our 
greatness  cannot  be  denied.  Washington 
guarded  and  led  what  was  by  comparison  a 
handful  of  men  dwelling  in  the  wilderness. 
Those  whom  he  set  on  the  way  have  gone 
forward  through  the  years  resolutely;  they 
have  never  faltered  or  turned  back.  They 
have  fashioned  the  wilderness  into  a  land  of 
richness  beyond  any  that  the  world  has  known. 
The  remote  settlements  of  a  new  world  have 
grown  to  be  the  greatest  power  among  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth. 

[182] 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY 

There  are  millions  in  this  land  to-day  where 
were  scant  thousands  in  the  time  of  Washing- 
ton. But  we  can  never  be  too  many  to  do  him 
honor.  We  are  fabulously  wealthy  now  where 
we  were  poverty-stricken  in  the  time  of  Wash- 
ington, but  we  can  never  be  too  rich  to  remem- 
ber the  beginnings  of  our  prosperity,  to 
remember  the  man  that  molded  destiny  in 
our  behalf. 

George  Washington  the  Father  of  Our 
Country.  We,  his  children,  are  humbly  grate- 
ful to  his  memory. 


[183] 


DECORATION  DAY 

THIS  is  the  day  on  which  we  assem- 
ble to  bear  witness  that  we  remem- 
ber our  dead.  Those  whom  we 
thus  now  hold  in  memory  have  a 
claim  upon  our  reverence  that  is  of  the 
strongest.  Yet,  this  claim  does  not  come 
from  any  kinship;  it  is  not  due  to  ties  of 
blood ;  it  is  not  derived  even  from  friendship ; 
it  is  not  concerned  with  personal  relationships. 
The  claim  issues  from  the  fact  that  these  dead 
gave  the  full  strength  of  their  manhood,  gave 
their  very  lives  even,  for  a  righteous  cause. 
They  fought  and  died  for  the  salvation  of  the 
nation  in  which  we  enjoy  citizenship.  It  was 
their  toil  and  torment  and  passing  that  upheld 
the  Government  in  a  time  of  mortal  crisis,  so 
that  it  has  endured  through  the  years,  and 
stands  to-day  in  splendid  security.  In  great 
measure,  if  not  indeed  wholly,  we  owe  these 

ri8+] 


DECORATION  DAY 

dead  heroes  both  the  peacefulness  and  the 
power  of  these  United  States. 

It  is  well  that  the  slow  flight  of  the  years 
lessens  little  by  little  and  finally  destroys  the 
bitterness  that  must  characterize  partisan 
strife.  To-day,  we  may  declare  with  grateful 
pride  that  the  heart  of  North  and  South  is 
truly  one  part.  There  is  no  longer  any  spirit 
of  battle  between  sections  of  our  country.  The 
old  wounds  have  healed,  a  kindly  Time  has 
almost  completely  obliterated  even  the  scars 
of  former  conflict.  With  our  eyes  open  to  a 
clearer  vision,  we  of  the  one  nation  under- 
stand the  honest  valor  of  all  who  battled  in 
the  Civil  War.  It  is  easy  now  to  understand  the 
zeal  of  the  North,  so  suddenly  and  so  swiftly 
aroused  against  the  practice  of  slavery,  for 
slavery  was  not  an  institution  in  the  North. 
There  was  nothing  to  offset  full  appreciation 
of  the  injustice  wrought  against  the  victims 
of  such  servitude.  But  we  can  understand 
equally  the  feeling  of  the  South,  where  genera- 
tions of  custom  sanctioned  the  holding  of 
slaves.     We  remember  in  justification  of  the 

r  185  ] 


SPEECHES 

practice  that  throughout  all  the  ages  of  his- 
tory slavery  had  been  deemed  a  matter  of 
course,  not  only  by  rudest  savages,  but  as 
well  by  those  peoples  of  highest  culture.  The 
development  of  a  sense  of  justice  in  this  regard 
developed  only  in  modern  times,  and  then  very 
slowly.  It  is  characteristic  of  human  nature 
that  those  not  directly  concerned  with  the  in- 
stitution were  in  every  instance  most  ardent 
toward  its  abolition.  In  France,  the  extrava- 
gancies of  the  revolutionary  spirit  that  cul- 
minated in  the  reign  of  terror  in  the  closing 
years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  included  the 
freeing  of  the  slaves  in  the  French  Colonial 
possessions.  Here,  we  note  again,  that  there 
was  no  slavery  in  France  itself  to  serve  as  a 
check  on  the  enthusiasts.  Indeed,  it  is  hardly 
a  matter  for  pride  to  any  lover  of  human 
progress,  that  the  change  so  admirable  in 
itself  was,  nevertheless,  effected  by  fanatics 
who  enthroned  the  guillotine,  who  exalted 
courtesans  for  the  high  altars  in  the  churches, 
who  dragged  the  Bible  through  the  streets  tied 
to  the  tail  of  an  ass.    The  British  freed  their 

[i86] 


DECORATION  DAY 

slaves  more  slowly — happily,  more  sanely.  It 
seems  a  pity  that  we  could  not  have  reached 
the  right  in  this  matter  peacefully,  without 
the  horrors  of  a  bloody  war  between  brothers. 
Yet,  there  is  a  purifying  of  the  spirit  that 
comes  forth  out  of  the  evils  of  strife.  We  must 
believe  that  such  a  baptism  of  blood  is  a  sac- 
rament of  regeneration  for  the  nation.  At 
least,  we  know  that  the  individuals  who  fought 
and  died  were  surely  in  some  measure  thus 
consecrated.  These  dead,  in  memory  of  whom 
we  are  gathered,  are  sacred  to  us.  They  will 
remain  sacred  to  us  so  long  as  the  generations 
honor  the  supreme  virtues  of  manhood :  valor 
and  sacrifice. 


[187] 


FOURTH  OF  JULY 

THE  Fourth  of  July  is  the  anniver- 
sary that  commemorates  that  day  in 
1776  on  which  came  into  being 
the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
It  has  won  for  itself  the  distinction  of  being 
known  as  *^the  day  we  celebrate."  And 
fittingly,  for  the  Fourth  of  July  is  not  only 
our  most  joyous,  but  also  our  most  sacred 
festival.  It  is  the  souvenir  of  the  birth  of  our 
nation.  It  may  be  said  of  it  jocularly  that  it 
is  the  occasion  when  we  most  enthusiastically 
twist  the  Lion's  tail,  and  let  the  Eagle  scream. 
It  is  the  day  when  we  are  prone  to  boast  of 
the  triumph  that  our  hardy  ancestors  won 
over  the  veteran  troops  of  an  empire,  and  to 
vaunt  ourselves  over  the  magnificent  progress 
that  has  marked  the  change  from  the  thirteen 
colonies  to  the  greatest  of  world  powers.  It 
is,  indeed,  but  just  that  we  should  thus  exult 
over  past  prowess  and  present  achievement. 

[188] 


FOURTH  OF  JULY 

The  nation  has  accomplished  stupendous 
things  in  the  way  of  advancement,  and  we 
may  take  credit  to  those  of  our  race  who  have 
here  wrought  a  work  so  mighty  and  so  endur- 
ing. 

Yet,  the  flight  of  the  years  has  effected  a 
radical  change  in  our  sentiment  toward  the 
country  against  the  tyranny  of  which  we 
fought.  Every  schoolboy  to-day  knows  that 
the  evils  imposed  on  the  Colonists  were  due 
to  the  rapacity  of  the  monarch,  not  to  the  ill- 
will  of  the  people,  and  that  the  best  sentiment 
of  English  statesmen  was  bitterly  opposed  to 
the  policies  of  King  George  toward  the 
colonies  of  the  crown.  The  English  of  that 
age  realized,  just  as  they  realize  now,  that  the 
war  was  a  hideous  blunder;  they  understood 
the  injustice  of  it. 

It  was  a  flaming  resentment  against  injus- 
tice that  set  burning  the  forces  of  the  revo- 
lution in  our  Western  World.  Our  fore- 
fathers were  goaded  to  revolt  by  the  unfair- 
ness with  which  they  were  treated  by  the 
Government    overseas.     Their    protest    was 

[189] 


SPEECHES 

against  taxation  without  representation.  That 
protest  went  from  words  to  deeds,  and  its  final 
provision  is  visible  in  the  peace  and  power  of 
this  land  to-day.  The  patriots  of  1776  and 
those  bitter  years  that  followed  did  not  take 
up  arms  in  behalf  of  any  theory:  they  battled 
to  remedy  unjust  conditions  imposed  upon 
them  by  a  despotic  authority.  Our  warriors 
were  not  animated  by  hatred  of  the  monarch- 
ical form  of  government,  or  by  love  for  a 
democratic  system.  They  were  driven  to 
rebellion  by  circumstances  that  menaced  their 
well  being  unjustly;  they  dared  the  combat  in 
behalf  of  their  material  rights.  The  men  of 
that  age,  whether  individuals  of  the  common 
people,  or  their  leaders,  their  statesmen,  their 
generals,  had  no  conception  of  democracy 
with  the  meaning  given  to  the  word  to-day. 
But  they  understood  fully  the  difference  be- 
tween right  and  wrong,  and  they  were  willing 
to  shed  their  blood,  to  give  their  lives  to  de- 
fend the  right  that  was  theirs. 

Our  present  development  of  democracy  has 
been  from  a  growth  of  exceeding  slowness. 

[190] 


FOURTH  OF  JULY 

By  reason  of  that  slowness,  the  growth  has 
been  sure.  Moreover,  the  tedious  delay  in 
advancement  has  made  every  gain  infinitely 
precious;  it  has  given  the  people  opportunity 
to  realize  the  exact  advantage  of  every  gain, 
and  thus  to  appreciate  with  deepest  grateful- 
ness each  succeeding  benefit.  We  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race  have  been  studying  for  a 
thousand  years  the  problems  of  a  liberal  gov- 
ernment and  of  individual  rights.  They  have 
studied,  and,  too,  they  have  struggled.  There 
were  wars  in  the  British  Isles,  as  well  as  the 
final  war  waged  on  this  continent,  and  every 
battle  was  in  some  measure  the  march  of  a 
forward  movement. 

The  slowness  of  the  process  has  given  to 
us  a  development  of  character  that  tends  to- 
ward making  us  worthy  of  the  blessings  that 
have  been  bestowed  upon  us.  The  priceless 
gain  from  all  its  struggles  has  been  the  growth 
of  character.  We  of  the  race  have  striven  for 
our  liberties  through  many  generations  of 
struggle,  and  we  have  earned  them.  Because 
we  have  thus  fought  and  thus  difficultly  ob- 

[191] 


SPEECHES 

tained,  we  understand  our  liberties.  We  do 
not  merely  perceive  the  superficial  things  that 
are  represented  by  the  law,  or  by  the  machin- 
ery of  government,  but  we  know  the  truth 
that  lies  beneath  the  surface,  and  is,  in  fact, 
the  foundation  on  which  our  whole  social 
structure  is  reared.  We  not  only  know  this 
truth  as  a  matter  of  intelligent  perception, 
but  we  feel  it — crystallized  as  a  dominant 
sentiment  from  inherited  experience. 

No  other  race  of  to-day  has  an  inheritance 
so  splendid.  Within  recent  years,  the  island 
kingdom  of  the  Japanese  was  opened  to  civil- 
ization. That  race,  with  amazing  adapt- 
ability, has  taken  to  itself  many  of  the  strange 
things  thus  offered,  but  the  effect  is  wholly 
superficial,  if  not  altogether  flimsy,  at  best 
merely  material.  The  Japanese,  however 
imitative  they  may  be,  have  never  lived 
through  the  ages  of  struggle  to  attain;  their 
generations  have  not  received  the  baptism  of 
blood,  liberty's  sacrament.  They  may  lay 
hold  on  the  outward  form;  they  cannot  pos- 
sess the  inward  and  spiritual  grace. 

[192] 


FOURTH  OF  JULY 

It  is  this  inward  and  spiritual  grace  that  is 
our  glory.  On  this  the  day  we  celebrate,  it  is 
well  to  exult  in  the  noble  achievements  of  our 
race,  of  which  this  day  is  a  triumphant  symbol. 
But  it  is  better  still  to  feel  within  us  a  quicken- 
ing of  the  spirit — that  spirit  which  burned 
so  hotly  within  the  bosoms  of  our  patriot 
fathers.  It  is  a  spirit  that  must  flame  always 
to  consume  injustice,  to  destroy  the  dross  that 
would  hide  or  tarnish  the  right.  It  is  the 
spirit  that  makes  mighty  for  righteousness, 
that  makes  strong  to  battle  not  only  for  the 
rights  of  one's  self,  but  with  equal  zeal  for 
the  rights  of  his  fellows. 

The  spirit  of  1776.  May  it  live  ever  in  us, 
and  in  the  generations  that  are  to  follow. 


[  193] 


LABOR  DAY 

LABOR  DAY  is  new  on  the  calendar 
of  annual  festivals.  Yet,  though  the 
organization  of  the  workers  into 
unions  is  of  recent  occurrence,  the 
principle  thus  expressed  has  in  certain  phases 
been  a  factor  throughout  all  the  history 
of  the  world.  Men  everywhere  and  always 
have  recognized  the  truth  that  in  union  there 
is  strength.  Essentially,  every  class  has 
made  constant  effort  to  avail  itself  of  those 
advantages  afforded  by  the  association  of  its 
members  for  purposes  either  defensive  or 
offensive.  Thus,  to  give  an  illustration  from 
the  top  of  the  social  structure,  ruling  sover- 
eigns have  been  wont  to  form  alliances  with 
other  potentates  for  the  sake  of  increased  safety 
or  power.  Similarly,  the  ruling  class  of  a 
nation  was  joined  in  a  nobility  that  carried 
special  privileges,   and  the  whole  class  was 

[  194 1 


LABOR  DAY 

zealous  against  any  infringement  on  their 
superior  rank.  Lower  in  the  social  scale  were 
the  guilds,  which  were  actually  groups  of 
particular  merchants  or  artisans.  Even  the 
apprentices  were  leagued  together  for  the 
common  good.  The  farmers,  even,  have  not 
disdained  such  joining  of  their  forces  for  mu- 
tual aid,  and  the  granges  have  possessed  a 
large  measure  of  influence  in  the  past;  they 
remain  of  a  definite  importance  in  the  present. 
Such  banding  together  has  by  no  means  been 
limited  to  our  Anglo-Saxon  race:  it  has  been 
a  feature  in  the  social  constitution  of  all  coun- 
tries, in  all  times.  It  has,  perhaps,  its  most 
striking  manifestation  in  the  caste  system  of 
India.  The  Hindoo  mixes  the  social  status 
with  religion.  The  whole  population  was 
classified  in  forgotten  ages,  so  long  ago  that 
the  sacred  legions  tell  of  how  each  separate 
class  issued  from  a  particular  part  of  the  God 
Bramah.  That  caste  system  has  remained 
fixed  through  the  centuries.  Each  native 
Hindoo  is  born  into  a  caste  from  which  he 
cannot  escape,  be  he  priest,  or  warrior,  or 

[195] 


SPEECHES 

Street-sweeper.     The   rules  of  his  caste  are 
absolute,  to  depart  in  any  least  degree  from 
the  rigid  forms  is  mortal  sin.    The  caste  sys- 
tem of  India  represents  all  that  is  worst  in 
the  separation  of  a  people  into  classes.     It  is 
an  absolute  bar  to  any  high  ambition  among 
those  of  the  inferior  orders,  since  ascent  to  a 
nobler  place  in  the  social  scale  is  not  merely 
forbidden,  it  is  wholly  impossible.     By  con- 
trast, then,  we  realize  the  enormous  advan- 
tages offered  by  a  democracy  to  every  indi- 
vidual.   Here,  the  man  born  in  the  gutter  may 
rise  to  the  presidency  of  the  nation,  if  the  spirit 
of  achievement  within  him  be  of  sufficient 
power.     There  is  no  bar  of  the  secular  law 
or  of  religion.     Labor  in  modern  times  has 
attained   to   intelligent   understanding  of   its 
rights,  of  its  dignity  and  of  its  power.    It  has 
won  triumph  in  the  vindication  of  its  rights. 
It  has  proved  its  dignity.     It  has  asserted  its 
power.     It  is  certain  that  labor  will  never 
revert  to  serfdom.    The  strength  of  labor  has 
grown  so  great  that  there  is  no  longer  need  to 
fear  oppression.     Indeed,  it  would  seem  that 

[196] 


LABOR  DAY 

to-day  the  chief  requirement  is  toward  that 
sort  of  union  which  shall  develop  understand- 
ing and  tolerance  and  sympathy  between  the 
various  classes  of  the  community.  We  have 
advanced  so  far  in  the  development  of  our 
civilization  that  we  ought  to  advance  yet  a 
little  farther.  Such  progress  would  mean  a 
near  approach  to  absolute  justice  in  the  rela- 
tions of  every  class  of  our  citizens  with  all 
other  classes.  The  ideal  is  in  truth  absolute 
fairness,  a  perfect  justice  for  every  individual. 
The  realization  of  that  ideal  means  the  abol- 
ishing of  every  special  privilege,  means  even 
the  actual  elimination  of  classes  as  arbitrarily 
imposed  by  present  conditions. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  labor  unions  to  exalt 
before  the  world  the  honor  that  inheres  in  hon- 
est toil.  God  never  cursed  labor.  On  the 
contrary.  He  blessed  it  in  the  beginning  and 
sanctified  it  for  all  time.  His  own  revelation 
declares  that  he  worked  in  the  infinite  toil  of 
creation,  and  found  the  work  good.  He  set 
man  in  the  garden,  but  with  the  task  of  caring 
for  it.    Christ,  in  the  later  revelation,  repeats 

[  197  ] 


SPEECHES 

the  declaration  that  the  Father  is  ever  work- 
ing, and  adds  that  He  Himself,  also,  works. 
Man,  made  in  the  likeness  of  God,  imitates  the 
creator  in  his  toil.  And  all  work  is  creative. 
The  sweeping  of  a  room  or  the  washing  of 
dishes  is  truly  creative  work,  for  it  brings  or- 
der out  of  disorder,  just  as  God  fashioned  the 
universe  out  of  chaos.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
religious  quality  in  all  faithful  service,  in  all 
honest  industry.  The  old  monks  sang  a  hymn 
with  the  refrain,  ''Laborare  est  orare" — to 
labor  is  to  pray.  In  spiritual  worth,  the  hum- 
blest worker  may  be  mighty.  It  will  be  well 
for  us  to  keep  in  our  hearts  a  thought  of  such 
spiritual  values,  since,  at  the  last,  these  things 
only  avail.  The  material  passes,  but  the 
things  of  the  spirit  avail. 


[198] 


COLUMBUS  DAY 

THE  discoverer  of  our  country  did 
not  give  it  his  name,  but  his  fame 
is  none  the  less  secure.  The  learned 
may  tell  us  of  some  ancient  Scan- 
dinavian navigator  w^ho  came  to  these  shores 
before  the  sailing  of  the  ships  sent  forth  by 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  but  w^e  are  not  in  the 
least  interested.  We  honor  Christopher 
Columbus  as  the  man  w^ho  made  the  continent 
know^n  to  the  world,  who  by  his  discovery 
opened  it  to  the  European  adventurers,  with 
the  result  that  it  became  a  new  world,  a  world 
of  amazing  vastness  and  more  amazing  fruit- 
fulness.  Nor  do  we  venerate  the  name  of 
Columbus  less  from  the  fact  that  he  was 
actually  mistaken  in  his  high  project,  and  that 
accident,  rather  than  design,  made  his  voyag- 
ing a  supreme  achievement. 

We  may  well  honor  the  man,  since  to  him 

[  199] 


SPEECHES 

directly  and  personally  we  owe  the  magnifi- 
cent treasure  that  is  this  country  of  ours.  It  is 
useless  to  declare  that  some  other  in  the  course 
of  time  must  have  done  the  work,  had  Colum- 
bus failed.  The  fact  remains  that  Columbus 
was  the  discoverer.  To  him,  then,  all  our 
gratitude  and  praise,  our  reverence  as  the 
agent  under  Providence  for  our  well-being. 

It  is,  indeed,  most  astonishing  to  reflect  on 
how  the  vast  American  continent  remained  a 
wilderness  through  all  the  ages  of  history. 
The  races  of  men  grew  civilized  in  the  old 
world,  they  exploited  the  arts  and  sciences, 
they  developed  agriculture  and  all  natural  re- 
sources, and  believed  with  utmost  sincerity 
that  all  the  earth  was  theirs,  and  the  fullness 
thereof.  Yet,  only  a  few  thousand  miles  away 
from  them  across  the  ocean,  there  waited  that 
other  world,  in  which  lay  hidden  all  the  riches 
of  their  own  lands,  and  more.  It  was  a  virgin 
soil,  endowed  with  incalculable  treasures. 
Those  dwelling  there  were  only  a  few  scat- 
tered savages.     We  know  that  in  forgotten 

[200] 


COLUMBUS  DAY 

ages  a  higher  culture  existed  in  certain  re- 
gions, for  there  remain  to  our  own  day  the 
massive  ruins  that  are  mute  witness  to  the  skill 
of  those  that  builded  them.  But  of  that  van- 
ished race  we  know  nothing,  though  we  may 
guess  that  through  them  survived  on  this  con- 
tinent some  part  of  the  civilization  claimed 
for  the  lost  Atlantis.  So  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, however,  the  redmen  were  the  only 
occupants,  and  they  but  few,  of  this  enormous 
region.  And  these  aboriginals  left  the  land 
virgin,  with  all  its  wealth  intact  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  pioneers.  What  that  wealth  was  is 
visibly  suggested  to  us  as  we  look  about  us  at 
the  splendor  of  our  nation.  Our  knowledge  of 
it  grows  if  we  look  farther,  to  the  wide  and 
fertile  reaches  of  Canada,  to  cities,  mountains, 
valleys  and  plains  of  the  tremendous  areas  we 
group  under  the  names  Central  and  South 
America. 

Honor,  then,  to  Christopher  Columbus, 
agent  of  destiny  to  bestow  on  mankind  the 
glories  of  a  new  world. 

[201  ] 


THANKSGIVING  DAY 

THIS  day  had  its  beginning  among  a 
pious  people,  who,  in  a  strange 
new  world,  amid  the  perils  of  a 
wilderness  and  menaced  by  sav- 
ages, obtained  the  necessities  of  life  by  stern- 
est toil,  yet,  in  devout  worship  of  God,  felt 
the  obligation  upon  them  to  set  apart  a 
certain  season  for  fasting  and  prayer  and 
thanksgiving  to  a  Providence  so  merciful. 
We  of  to-day,  who  dwell  so  much  more  softly 
amid  the  plenty  rendered  by  a  fruitful  earth, 
could  hardly  endure  such  rigors  as  were  im- 
posed by  the  circumstances  of  time  and  place 
upon  the  Pilgrim  Fathers.  Such  trials  as 
those  they  underwent  w^ould  sorely  tax  our 
faith,  might  even  lead  us  into  bitter  repining 
against  the  divine  discipline,  rather  than  to  a 
humble  gratitude. 

The  Pilgrims  were  sustained  through  every 

[  202  J 


THANKSGIVING  DAY 

trouble  by  a  profound  religious  fervor.  It 
was  for  peace  of  conscience  that  they  made 
themselves  exiles  from  their  native  land. 
They  sought  a  place,  no  matter  hov^  difficult 
and  dangerous,  where  they  might  exercise 
their  right  to  worship  according  to  their  con- 
viction. It  was  natural,  then,  that  such  men 
and  women  should  mark  the  rounding  of  the 
year  with  special  service  of  praise  to  the  Deity 
who  had  preserved  them.  They  made  this 
season  one  for  earnest  communion  v^ith  God, 
a  time  for  spiritual  exaltation.  So,  they  mor- 
tified the  flesh,  and  strict  fasting  left  a  larger 
liberty  for  the  soul's  exercise. 

We  have  traveled  far  from  the  conception 
in  which  this  anniversary  had  its  beginning. 
For  us  of  the  present  generation,  it  is,  to  a 
large  extent,  just  a  holiday,  a  time  for  pleas- 
ure, in  games  or  other  sports,  or  in  social  re- 
unions and  assemblies,  and  for  feasting.  The 
official  proclamations  of  the  day  still  empha- 
size its  sacred  character.  The  churches  still 
maintain  special  services  where  the  religious- 
minded  may  meet  together  with  something  of 

[203] 


/ 

SPEECHES 

the  old-time  sentiment  of  praise  for  the  good- 
ness of  God.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that 
most  of  our  citizenry  gives  small  heed  to-day 
to  holy  things,  but  is  rather  concerned  with 
merry-making,  each  according  to  his  individ- 
ual bent.  The  day  is  esteemed  as  one  of  jol- 
lity. None  dreams  of  fasting.  Instead,  the 
time  is  one  notoriously  for  feasting. 

There  is,  in  fact,  no  harm  in  our  rejoic- 
ing. On  the  contrary,  it  is  well  that  we  should 
be  glad  in  the  midst  of  a  plenty  that  in  these 
later  days  is  the  marvel  and  the  envy  of  a 
stricken  world.  It  is,  indeed,  seemly  to  re- 
joice in  the  realization  of  our  manifold 
blessings.  Nor  is  it  unfitting,  as  the  pilgrims 
themselves  soon  came  to  realize,  to  spread  our 
tables  with  that  generous  profusion  made 
possible  by  a  kindly  Providence.  But,  along 
with  these  our  modern  methods  in  which  we 
indulge  so  easily  and  so  zealously,  it  would  be 
well  for  our  souls'  sake  to  remember  the  exact 
significance  of  this  day  to  those  from  whom 
we  have  derived  it.  It  would  be  well  for  us, 
like  them,  to  make  the  time  one  for  a  closer 

[204] 


THANKSGIVING  DAY 

communion  with  the  divine  source  of  our  well- 
being.  It  would  be  well  for  us  to  emulate  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  in  their  humility  of  Thanks- 
giving, in  their  realization  that  their  every 
achievement  was  made  possible  and  sanctified 
by  the  blessing  of  God.  We  may  believe  the 
God  of  the  Pilgrims  more  kindly  and  more 
tolerant  than  they  deemed  Him.  But  He  is 
still  our  God,  and  it  is  for  us  a  most  solemn 
duty  in  the  midst  of  our  prosperity  to  remem- 
ber always  and  especially  on  this  day,  that  He 
is  the  source  of  abundance,  and  that  His  bless- 
ing gives  us  the  strength  to  harvest  His  bounty. 
Let  us  hold  in  our  consciousness  the  name  of 
this  holiday,  and  make  of  it,  truly  and  rever- 
ently, a  day  of  thanksgiving. 


[205] 


CHRISTMAS 

IT  is  tiie  strength  and  the  glory  of  our 
Christian  religion  that  it  centers  about  a 
personal  Saviour.  The  personality  of 
Christ  is  the  magnet  that  draws  sinners 
to  repentance  and  knowledge  ?f  salvation. 
There  is  a  marvelous  power  of  appeal  in  rfie 
fact  that  Christ,  in  spite  of  His  divine  nature, 
was  in  very  truth  a  man  like  unto  us.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  we  turn  to  him  in  full  con- 
fidence, knowing  that  He  understands  our 
every  mood,  that  he  sympathizes  with  our 
every  feeling,  ready  always  to  ofier  the  com- 
fort of  an  infinite  tenderness. 

It  is  because  of  this  personal  quality  in  the 
Redeemer  that  our  religion  makes  so  great 
a  festival  of  the  birth  of  Jesus.  The  Babe  in 
the  manger  exercises  a  holy  spell  over  the 
meditations  of  the  devout,  and  this  spell  suf- 
fers no  lessening  with  the  lapse  of  the  years — 
for  its  strength  is  drawn  from  the  personal 


CHRISTMAS 

relation  of  each  of  us  with  this  Divine  Being 
made  flesh  for  the  redemption  of  the  world. 
There  is,  too.  in  this  celebration  something  of 
the  simplicit}'  and  joj'ousness  that  belongs  to 
childhood.  It  is  thus  that  we  cultivate  es- 
pecially the  spirit  of  good  will  that  is  sym- 
bolized by  the  giving  of  gifts,  and  especially 
we  distinguish  the  festival  by  making  it  the 
day  of  days  for  the  children.  It  is  now  that 
we  seek  to  fill  full  their  cup  of  gladness,  and, 
in  so  doing,  we  join  with  them  so  earnestly 
as  to  renew  in  some  measure  our  own  youth- 
fulness.  There  sounds  ven*  distinctly  in  our 
hearts  to-day  the  words  of  Christ:  "Suffer 
the  little  ones  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.'"' 

We  of  our  religion  are  wonderfully  blessed. 
Our  faith  has  a  warmth  in  the  relation  be- 
tween God  and  man  that  the  other  great  reli- 
gions have  lacked.  Every  false  faith  has  owed 
its  power  to  a  truth.  But  a  truth  becomes  es- 
sentially error  when  it  is  overemphasized;  it 
becomes  distorted,  in  eft'ect  untruth.  And  to 
a  large  extent  pagan   beliefs  have   suffered 

[207] 


SPEECHES 

from  a  mingling  of  the  grossly  material  with 
the  spiritual.  Thus,  the  Moslem  faith,  which 
had  its  power  in  the  cry  that  God  is  one  God, 
nevertheless  offers  as  reward  to  the  devout 
Mussulman  a  paradise  with  harems  in  which 
waited  bevies  of  houris  of  supreme  loveliness. 
In  truth,  the  lures  of  passion  have  trailed 
through  most  of  the  world's  religions  in  the 
past,  and  they  remain  potent  still.  Buddha 
escaped  this  taint  in  his  teaching,  because  it 
was  his  ambition  to  preach  a  gospel  of  hope 
to  those  that  had  been  hopeless.  He  proffered 
comfort  in  the  assurance  that  every  soul  could 
at  the  last  attain  to  Nirvana — to  annihilation, 
to  nothingness. 

How  different  are  the  purity  and  the  hap- 
piness to  be  found  in  our  Christian  faith.  It 
is  significant  that  the  greatest  and  noblest  men 
and  women  known  to  history  have  been  loyal 
followers  of  the  Nazarene.  It  is  significant, 
as  well  that  the  greatest  minds  before  our  era 
approximated  closely  to  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 
Our  religion  suffices  every  need.  It  is  so  sim- 
ple that  the  most  lowly  is  able  easily  to  lay 

[208] 


CHRISTMAS 

hold  on  its  salvation.  It  is  so  profound,  so 
complete,  that  it  answers  every  demand  of  the 
highest  intelligence,  of  the  most  eager  heart. 
It  is  not  for  us  now  to  concern  ourselves  with 
doctrine.  Indeed,  we  may  safely  leave  doc- 
trine at  all  times  to  the  schools.  The  vital 
truth  is  that  Christianity  is  a  life.  By  com- 
parison, doctrines  count  for  little.  The 
essential  is  that  one  should  follow  the  Christ, 
that  he  should,  even  though  afar,  live  to  the 
best  of  his  ability  the  life  of  Christ.  And, 
in  so  doing  there  is  no  inconsistency  to-day 
when  we  become  glad,  like  unto  the  little  ones. 
To  young  and  old,  to  each  and  every  one, 
a  merry,  a  merry  Christmas. 


[209] 


ENGAGEMENT 

ALL  the  world  loves  a  lover. 
Since  this  is  true,  it  follows  that 
everyone  is  doubly  fond  of  two 
lovers.  And  justly  so,  when  they 
have  plighted  their  troth,  and  behold  in  all 
the  universe  only  a  background  for  their  own 
exquisite  happiness.  We  others,  who  are 
more  prosaic,  share  in  their  gladness.  Per- 
haps we  are  a  little  touched  with  envy  toward 
these  lovers  to  whom  a  drab  world  has  become 
as  heaven. 

Yet,  not  quite  as  heaven.  For  in  heaven 
there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving  in  mar- 
riage. That,  doubtless,  is  why,  as  Poe  sings, 
the  angels  in  heaven  went  envying  his  love 
for  his  Annabel  Lee.  Poor  things,  to  witness 
such  joy  that  can  never  be  for  them. 

We  sometimes  smile  a  little  over  the  rap- 
tures of  lovers,  and  think  of  them  as  living  in 

[210] 


ENGAGEMENT 

a  realm  of  dream.  But  theirs  is,  after  all, 
the  supreme  reality.  For  love  is  life,  accord- 
ing to  the  divine  ordering  of  things.  In  His 
last  revelation  of  Himself,  God  has  declared 
that  He  is  love,  and  God  is  all  in  all ;  in  Him 
vv^e  live  and  move  and  have  our  being.  So, 
then,  there  can  be  no  true  life  outside  of  love. 

And  again,  God  has  told  us  that  it  is  not 
good  for  man  to  live  alone.  Here,  there  is 
no  conflict  between  religion  and  science,  be- 
tween rich  and  poor,  between  foolish  and  wise, 
between  nature  and  civilization.  All  unite  to 
recognize  this  necessity  of  the  mating  of  youth 
and  maiden;  all  unite  to  recognize  that  only 
in  such  mating  is  to  be  found  the  fullness  of 
life. 

May  that  Providence  which  is  itself  the 
Spirit  of  Love  bless  these  lovers. 


[211] 


RESPONSE  OF  FIANCE 

WE  had  both  thought  that  our 
happiness  was  complete.  But 
now  we  realize  that  it  needed 
to  make  it  perfect  just  what 
you  have  given  to  us — your  sympathy  with 
our  joy,  your  good  wishes  for  our  future,  your 
kindly  affection  at  this  time  toward  us.  For 
myself,  I  cannot  claim  to  deserve  what  I  have 
won.  It  is  my  hope  that  a  generous  Provi- 
dence will  help  me,  will  strengthen  me  to 
make  the  life  happiness  of  her  who  has  so 
honored  me. 

And,  again,  our  most  grateful  thanks  and 
appreciation  of  your  goodness  to  us. 


[212] 


WEDDING 

|HERE  are  three  great  crises  in  life. 
The  first  is  birth,  the  last  is  death; 
between  the  two — in  many  cases  a 
number  of  times  between  the  two — 
comes  marriage.  In  the  matter  of  birth,  no 
one  has  any  choice  at  all;  in  the  matter 
of  death,  it  is  rarely  that  one  is  permitted 
to  consult  his  own  preference,  unless  he 
chooses  suicide.  But  in  the  matter  of  mar- 
riage it  is  the  general  belief  that  the  high  con- 
tracting parties  have  liberty  of  choice.  If  this 
is  not  always  so,  it  usually  seems  so,  which 
does  quite  as  well.  The  important  truth  is 
that  marriage,  with  its  freedom  of  selection 
to  the  individual,  is  a  tremendous  responsibil- 
ity, and,  it  must  be  accepted  as  one's  own. 
Right  choice  is  vital  to  a  life  of  happiness. 
Here,  to-day,  we  may  believe  that  the  two 
principals  have  chosen  wisely,  and  that  hap- 

[213] 


SPEECHES 

piness  in  the  wedded  state  will  be  their  por- 
tion. 

The  humorous  are  fond  of  domestic  difficul- 
ties, which  offer  an  endless  supply  of  amusing 
situations.  That  is  to  say,  the  trouble  between 
husband  and  wife  is  often  of  a  sort  to  make 
onlookers  laugh,  though  it  is  deadly  serious  to 
the  unhappily  married  pair.  The  fun- 
maker's  point  of  view  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  shortest  joke  on  record,  when  Punch  used 
as  headline: 

"Advice  to  Those  About  to  be  Married." 

And  under  this  the  single  word : 

"Don't." 

There  is  no  end  to  this  sort  of  jesting,  which 
is  entertaining  enough  to  everyone  not  directly 
concerned.  A  constant  victim  of  the  para- 
graphers  is  the  mother-in-law,  as  in  the  quip : 

"What  is  the  penalty  for  bigamy?" 

And  the  reply: 

"Two  mothers-in-law." 

In  a  serious  consideration  of  marriage,  we 
are  confronted  with  the  inevitable  fact  that 
marriage  means  disillusionment.    Lovers  look 

[214] 


WEDDING 

on  the  world  through  rose-colored  spectacles, 
which  they  by  no  means  take  off  when  they 
look  at  each  other.  It  might  be  remarked  in 
passing  that  Cupid  himself  sometimes  wears 
blinders.  But  after  marriage,  the  rose  fades 
out  of  the  spectacles,  or  they  are  laid  aside 
altogether.  The  lovers  then  look  on  each  other 
with  new  and  clearer  vision.  Blessed  are  those 
that  behold  charms  hitherto  unsuspected,  a 
loveliness  deeper  and  more  enduring  than  that 
seen  under  love's  glamour. 

It  is  true  that  disillusionment  may  be  a 
melancholy  thing.  But  it  should  be,  and 
oftenest  is,  a  progression  from  fancy  to  fact 
in  which  comes  a  realization  of  worth-while 
qualities  that  make  possible  life  in  its  fullness. 
There  are  various  types  of  the  married  pair. 
There  is  the  couple  in  which  one  is  tyrant, 
the  other  slave.  Such  may  be  miserable  or 
very  happy.  The  law's  theory  until  recent 
times  was  that  the  man  rules  as  a  despot,  that 
the  wife  was  merely  a  chattel.  But  human 
nature  is  various,  and  many  a  woman,  long 
before  there  was  any  word  of  her  equal  rights, 

[215] 


SPEECHES 

ruled  her  husband,  whether  by  the  violence 
of  the  shrew,  or  by  the  subtle  wiles  of  the 
clinging  vine.  But  the  ideal  marriage  has  de- 
veloped a  true  equality  of  rights  between  man 
and  wife,  in  which  the  balance  is  not  ob- 
tained by  demand  and  contention,  rather  by 
tolerance,  by  some  sacrifice  of  self,  by  appre- 
ciation of  the  rights  of  another,  by  a  profound 
mutual  sympathy  and  by  that  community  of 
interests  which  is  a  powerful  bond.  When 
the  surgeon  at  a  hospital  in  the  East  End  of 
London  had  finished  dressing  the  cuts  and 
bruises  on  the  head  of  a  woman  patient,  he 
asked  sympathetically: 

"Who  treated  you  so  shockingly?  Was  it 
your  husband?" 

"Lor'  love  yer,  no,  sir.  W'y,  sir,  my 
'usband,  'e's  more  like  a  friend  nor  a  'usband." 

In  the  humor  of  that  answer  lies  a  truth  of 
vast  value.  Lovers  need  not  cease  to  be  lovers, 
but  they  must  grow  to  be  friends.  They  need 
to  become  pals,  in  the  best  meaning  of  the 
word.  Their  union  must  become  so  wonder- 
ful and  so  complete  that  it  shall  include  every 

[  216  ] 


WEDDING 

varied  feature  of  their  lives.  It  is  thus  that 
early  ardor  broadens  and  deepens  into  a  love 
that  permeates  the  whole  life  of  both  man  and 
wife,  and  makes  of  their  twain  lives  a  unity. 


[217] 


WEDDING 

(Bride's  Father) 

ONE  of  the  highest  of  human  pleas- 
ures is  that  of  a  parent  in  a  child. 
And  by  so  much  as  this  relation- 
ship is  capable  of  giving  joy, 
so,  too,  it  is  sometimes  the  cause  of  suffering, 
and  it  is  always  a  responsibility  that  must  not 
be  evaded.  The  delight  of  parents  in  a  child 
is,  in  the  natural  order  of  things,  tempered 
by  the  fact  that  as  the  child  passes  from  adoles- 
cence to  maturity,  separation  from  the  par- 
ents becomes  necessitated  by  the  circumstances 
of  life.  The  son  goes  out  from  the  parental 
roof  tree  to  mingle  vs^ith  his  fellows  and  to 
compete  with  them  in  business  afifairs.  The 
old  home  knows  him  no  more  except  as  a 
visitor.  In  the  new  manner  to  which  the  pres- 
ent  generation   is    rapidly   becoming    accus- 

[218] 


WEDDING 

tomed,  the  daughter,  as  well,  may  choose  to 
pursue  her  Individual  career  in  trade  or  in 
the  arts  or  in  a  profession.  But,  usually,  the 
girl  yields  to  her  natural  destiny  as  a  woman 
by  yielding  to  the  pleas  of  a  suitor,  by  enter- 
ing into  the  marriage  state.  It  is  this  com- 
plete change  in  her  life  and  status  that  so  pro- 
foundly affects  the  parents.  The  new  sphere 
of  activity  in  which  she  moves  is  so  full  and 
so  complete  that  it  must  surely  engage  her 
attention  and  her  energies  almost  entirely  to 
the  exclusion  of  former  interests.  The  par- 
ents, while  they  accept  as  resignedly  as  they 
may  the  new  order,  nevertheless  cannot  re- 
strain themselves  from  sorrow  over  their  loss. 
They  seek  compensation  in  satisfaction  over 
her  choice  of  a  mate,  in  appreciation  of  the 
sterling  qualities  that  belong  to  their  daugh- 
ter's husband.  They  feel  that  her  future  under 
his  care  shows  every  prospect  for  a  success- 
ful, a  contented  and  a  happy  life.  Their  pain 
over  their  loss  at  this  moment  is  mitigated  in 
some  degree  by  their  gain  of  a  son  thus  given 
to  them.    And,  throughout   all    the   days   to 

[219] 


SPEECHES 

come,  these  two  newly  united  shall  have  with 
them  the  love  and  tenderness  of  another 
wedded  pair — the  mother  and  the  father  of 
this  girl,  their  beloved  daughter. 


[220] 


WEDDING 

(Groom) 

1HAVE  already  made  one  speech  to-day. 
So  has  Mrs. ,  though  she  wasn't  the 
Missus  then.  We  think  those  speeches 
of  ours  were  better  than  the  grandest 
orations  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 
Anyhow  they  mean  more  to  us — along  with 
what  the  minister  said  right  afterward. 
Everyone  knows  that  no  man  is  worthy  of  a 
good  woman.  I  know  that  I  do  not  deserve 
the  best  of  women,  though  I've  won  her.  I 
can  only  try  my  best  to  make  her  happy,  so 
that  she  shall  never  regret  her  choice.  We 
know  that  we  have  your  wishes  for  our  happi- 
ness, and  we  are  grateful  to  you. 


[221  ] 


WEDDING  ANNIVERSARY 

(Husband) 

GETTING  married  is  a  big  thing, 
though  it  is  so  easy.  Staying  mar- 
ried is  a  bigger  thing,  and  it  is  not 
so  easy.  Staying  married  happily 
is  the  biggest  thing  of  all,  and  it  is  the  hard- 
est. But  it  is  the  thing  that  makes  everything 
else  in  life  comparatively  easy.  Love  is  a 
splendid  thing  in  itself,  and  it  is  essential  to 
any  happiness  in  the  married  state.  Yet  love 
is  often  blind,  and  this  fact  is  not  a  bit  altered 
in  the  case  of  marriage.  But,  for  happiness  in 
wedlock,  love  cannot  stay  blind.  Marrie(f 
lovers  must  have  their  eyes  very  wide  open, 
indeed,  and  see  all  the  actualities  of  their  con- 
dition with  unblinking  clearness  of  vision. 
Now,  this  means  that  they  must  see  the  truth 
not  only  as  to  each  other,  but  also  as  to  them- 
selves.    For  matrimony  imposes  adjustments 

[  222  ] 


WEDDING  ANNIVERSARY 

in  the  way  of  living.  Each  of  the  pair  must 
accommodate  himself  or  herself  for  the  sake 
of  an  harmonious  union.  It  is  necessary,  if 
trouble  is  to  be  avoided,  that  personal  self- 
sacrifice  should  be  imposed  by  the  one  whose 
individual  preference  is  thus  given  up.  It 
should  be  voluntary.  When  it  is  compelled 
by  the  other's  criticism  or  command  or  tear- 
ful prayers  the  result  is  surely  trouble.  When 
there  is  love,  along  with  the  spirit  of  tolerance 
and  sympathy,  happiness  in  marriage  is  sure. 
Under  such  conditions,  disagreements  within 
reasonable  bonds  do  but  give  spice  to  the  fam- 
ily fare.  But  bitter  recrimination  makes  the 
m^nu  just  one  plateful  of  mustard. 

My  wife  and  I  are  to-day  as  happy  as  we 
were  on  our  wedding  day — happier  in  a 
sense.  For,  if  we  lack  here  and  now  the  ad- 
venturous thrill  of  rapture  that  belongs  to 
lovers  newly  wed,  we  have  in  place  of  it  a 
substantial  joy  in  the  knowledge  that  we  have 
tested  our  affection,  and  have  found  it  true  and 
abiding.  We  have  gathered  from  the  expe- 
rience of  our  years  together  both  peace  and 

[223  ] 


SPEECHES 

pleasure  beyond  anything  of  our  early  dream- 
ing, and  we  know  that  our  content  in  the  past 
is,  as  well,  assurance  for  the  future. 

Not  least  among  the  good  things  with  which 
Providence  has  blessed  us  are  the  friends,  so 
many  of  whom  have  assembled  in  a  spirit  of 
kindliness  on  this  occasion.  Our  hearts  go  out 
to  them  in  grateful  recognition  of  all  that  their 
affection  and  companionship  have  meant  to  us 
in  the  past,  and  for  all  they  may  still  mean  in 
the  days  to  come. 


[224] 


WEDDING  ANNIVERSARY 

(Guest) 

ONE  of  the  disadvantages  of  our 
present  age  is  that  we  know  too 
much.  Not  of  what  is  good  for  us, 
but  what  is  bad  for  us.  The 
newspapers  are  splendid  things,  but  they  cer- 
tainly are  wonderful  scavengers.  Trouble  is 
news,  and  they're  after  it  all  the  time,  and 
they  surely  get  it.  They  print  it  under  start- 
ling headlines,  and  we  read  it.  One  kind  of 
trouble  in  which  they  most  delight  is  the  do- 
mestic. Anything  of  the  sort  that  leads  to  the 
divorce  court  is  beloved  space-filling  stuff  for 
the  papers.  And  we  read  it  all.  Naturally, 
the  amount  of  that  kind  of  thing  which  we  read 
molds  our  opinion,  makes  us  cynical,  pessi- 
mistic. Then,  too,  there  are  the  humorous,  to 
whom  every  married  pair  is  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Nag,  or  Wrangle,  or  Jarr.     We  acquire  a 

[225] 


SPEECHES 

habit  of  thinking  of  any  married  couple  as 
hypocritical  deceivers  or  cantankerous  scrap- 
pers, or  the  like.  It  is,  then,  with  something 
of  astonishment  that  we  consider  an  example 
such  as  this  pair  whom  we  are  met  together  to 
honor.  For,  they  in  their  persons  and  in  their 
life  of  union  present  an  example  of  just  those 
things  that  have  no  news  value  for  the  news- 
papers, and  so  are  never  exploited  in  the  col- 
umns of  the  press.  They  are  such  things,  too, 
as  make  no  appeal  to  the  professional  humorist 
as  material  for  his  jokes.  Yet,  these  things 
are  the  things  worth  while,  and  when  we  con- 
sider them,  we  recognize  their  worth,  we  es- 
teem them  as  precious.  This  married  couple 
presents  in  the  community  a  wholesome  exam- 
ple. They  are  very  human  and  very  lovable, 
and  we  have  all  been  drawn  to  them  by  per- 
sonal qualities  that  have  commanded  both 
respect  and  liking.  But,  beyond  such  individ- 
ual characteristics,  there  exists  another  power 
of  appeal  to  our  admiration  in  the  fact  that 
their  union  displays  the  ideal  of  marriage  real- 
ized.   Their  home  life  is  not  merely  decent 

[2261 


WEDDING  ANNIVERSARY 

and  respectable,  not  merely  virtuous  even.  It 
is  all  these,  but  it  is  also  something  vastly  more 
important,  something  nobler  and  finer.  It  is  a 
home  life  that  is  warmed  and  made  beautiful 
by  love  and  tenderness.  It  is  a  home  life  il- 
luminated by  a  radiance  of  spirit  that  shines 
forth  to  brighten  all  life  round  about.  The 
life  of  these  tw^o,  and  its  v^orth,  is  not  to  them 
alone.  It  is  an  agent  for  good  in  the  com- 
munity. It  touches  each  of  us,  and  inspires 
us  to  higher  aspiration,  to  a  new  confidence 
in  ourselves  and  in  our  fellows. 


[227] 


PRESENTATION  OF  A  TROPHY 

IT  is  my  agreeable  task  to  act  in  behalf  of 
my  fellows  as  spokesman  in  the  presenta- 
tion of  this  trophy  to  him  who  has  won  it 
by  his  unusual  skill  in  the  game.  The 
trophy  itself  is  a  beautiful  thing,  but  it  has  a 
beauty  deeper  than  that  which  appeals  to  the 
eye  alone.  It  is,  indeed,  a  symbol;  it  is  an 
outward,  material  sign  of  an  inward  grace. 
It  is  actually  a  proof  as  to  our  recognition  of 
the  sportsmanlike  qualities  of  its  recipient. 
It  bears  witness  not  only  to  dexterity  in  the 
playing  of  a  game,  but  also  to  the  character 
of  its  winner  as  a  man  who  plays  the  game 
fairly,  according  to  the  best  traditions  of  the 
pastime. 

In  the  association  of  individuals  for  sport, 
their  mettle  is  well  tried.  The  intimacy  of 
the  relation  is  such  as  to  test  character  with 
peculiar  exactness.  Because  of  the  interest 
aroused  by  such  contests  of  skill,  the  emotions 

[228] 


PRESENTATION  OF  A  TROPHY 

of  the  players  are  stirred  to  great  activity. 
Each  contestant  wishes  to  win,  he  desires  suc- 
cess, and  strives  for  it  eagerly.  He  is  likely  to 
be  dismayed  by  his  errors,  to  be  exultant  over 
his  skillful  plays.  A  victory  thrills  him  with 
pleasure,  a  defeat  fills  him  with  dejection. 
But  the  sporting  spirit  compels  him  to  restrain 
his  natural  feeling,  whether  of  joy  or  of  cha- 
grin, so  that  he  shall  not  in  conquering  be- 
come a  braggart,  or  in  defeat  a  grouch.  It 
is  this  sporting  spirit  that  gives  to  games 
rightly  played  their  value  among  men,  not 
merely  as  a  means  of  recreation,  but  as  a  most 
valuable  training  of  the  character.  The  quali- 
ties that  render  a  player  popular  among  his 
fellow  players,  are  just  those  qualities  calcu- 
lated to  make  him  popular  among  his  asso- 
ciates in  the  world  at  large.  Moreover,  the 
qualities  that  enable  him  to  achieve  a  triumph 
in  the  combat  of  skill  in  the  game  are  exactly 
those  qualities  which  are  likely  to  secure  his 
success  in  the  larger  struggle  of  professional 
or  business  affairs. 

So,  in  presenting  this  trophy,  we  offer  to  its 

[229] 


SPEECHES 

winner  not  alone  a  material  evidence  of  his 
prowess,  in  the  sport,  but  also  a  proof  of  his 
sterling  excellence,  and,  further,  a  witness  of 
the  friendly  regard  and  admiration  borne  to- 
ward him  by  his  fellows. 


[230] 


ACCEPTANCE  OF  A  TROPHY 

IT  is  with  deep  pleasure  that  I  receive  this 
trophy.  I  need  not  deny  that  in  the  pleas- 
ure there  is  more  than  a  little  pride. 
Learned  men  tell  us  that  there  is  always 
pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  faculty.  It  is  for 
that  reason  that  skill  in  any  pursuit  gives  its 
owner  a  special  and  constant  satisfaction. 
This  is  true  either  for  work  or  for  play,  and  it 
is  equally  true  whether  the  particular  task  be 
of  the  highest  or  of  the  humblest.  The  car- 
penter who  can  handle  a  tool  deftly  has  an 
agreeable  pride  in  his  accomplishment  that 
tends  to  make  labor  pleasant.  The  woman 
who  can  make  a  bed  perfectly  finds  a  distinct 
sense  of  well-being  in  the  exercise  of  her  art. 
There  is  no  difference  in  the  degree,  between 
carpenter  or  housewife  and  the  genius  who 
creates  an  epic  or  the  statesman  who  molds  the 

[231] 


SPEECHES 

destiny  of  a  nation.  In  sport,  this  exercise  of 
faculty  is  the  source  of  a  pleasure  that  con- 
tinues without  any  weariness  in  repetition. 
Bad  playing  causes  chagrin,  but  it  is  the  spur 
to  that  persistent  effort  which  brings  improve- 
ment and  at  last  the  keen  joy  of  accom- 
plishment. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  earned  some  meas- 
ure of  success  by  hard  work,  but  I  humbly 
accept  good  fortune  as  a  big  factor  in  the  final 
victory.  And  my  best  fortune,  after  all,  is  that 
I  may  regard  this  trophy  not  so  much  as  the 
memorial  of  my  success  in  the  game,  but  rather 
as  a  tribute  to  the  sporting  spirit  of  my  fel- 
lows, of  which  I  am  the  happy  recipient. 


[232] 


ADDRESS  OF  WELCOME 

(To  a  Personage) 

IT  is  our  pleasure  on  this  occasion  to  re- 
ceive among  us  a  personage  of  special  dis- 
tinction. His  presence  with  us  is  indeed 
an  honor  that  we  keenly  appreciate.  It 
is  possible,  even  probable,  that  oftentimes  a 
person  who  does  much  and  amounts  to  much 
in  the  world  feels  that  honest  and  unselfish 
endeavor  is  little  appreciated.  It  is  for  this 
reason  that  I  wish  now  to  emphasize  the  fact 
that  the  work  accomplished  by  our  guest  is 
not  only  known  to  us,  but  is,  too,  honored  by 
us.  It  has  been  of  such  a  character  as  to  tax 
the  strength  of  both  body  and  mind,  and  the 
strength  as  well  of  the  spirit.  In  that  triple 
strength  has  lain  the  secret  of  his  success — 
that  success  which  we  so  greatly  esteem,  for 
which  we  and  countless  of  our  fellows  are 
grateful. 

[233] 


SPEECHES 

The  success  to  which  our  guest  has  attained 
was  in  no  wise  due  to  luck,  though  we  may 
believe  that  Providence  has  given  him  power. 
It  has  been  a  success  founded  on  the  solid  rock 
of  integrity,  and  built  up  with  painstaking 
care  out  of  the  products  of  a  brilliant  brain 
and  a  generous  heart.  That  sort  of  success 
is  of  worth  to  the  world.  In  the  balance  of 
spiritual  things,  it  is  true  that  as  one  gives,  so 
he  receives.  This  man  has  given  greatly  out 
of  his  abundance,  and  so,  too,  he  has  received 
in  corresponding  measure.  Thus  it  is  that  as 
he  has  worked  so  mightily  and  has  accom- 
plished so  splendidly,  he  has  developed  a  per- 
sonality in  which  we  realize  true  greatness. 

We  offer  him  with  fitting  humility  our  wel- 
come, in  the  hope  that  its  sincerity  may  give 
him  pleasure. 


[234] 


RESPONSE 

HUMILITY  is  for  me,  rather  than 
for  those  who  welcomed  me  with 
a  kindness  that  touches  me  deeply. 
It  is  pleasant,  indeed,  for  one  to 
feel  that  he  is  appreciated.  But,  to  one  who 
searches  his  own  soul,  sincere  praise  is  some- 
thing to  render  him  humble,  even  while  it 
stirs  his  pride.  For,  as  one  comes  to  see 
clearly,  he  must  realize  ever  more  fully  how 
far  short  he  falls  in  the  accomplishment  of 
his  ideals.  It  is  thus  that  the  honors  paid  him, 
while  they  flatter,  force  him  to  recognize  how 
little  they  are  deserved.  But  they  are  none 
the  less  a  help.  They  are  an  incentive  always 
to  new  and  better  endeavor.  The  words  that 
have  just  been  spoken  as  representative  of  the 
spirit  of  this  assembly  toward  me  shall  remain 
as  something  very  dear  in  memory.    And  not 

[235] 


SPEECHES 


only  as  something  dear,  but  also  as  something 
with  a  vital  quality  of  its  own  to  increase  my 
strength  for  new  and  better  labors. 


[236] 


WELCOME 
(To  One  Returning) 

WE  of  this  community  feel  a  par- 
ticular pleasure  in  welcoming 
among  us  our  guest  here,  who 
is,  in  fact,  one  of  us  by  birth 
and  by  the  years  lived  with  us.  He  went  out 
from  among  us  to  engage  in  his  activities  in  a 
broader  field  of  endeavor.  He  comes  to  visit 
us  for  old  time's  sake,  to  renew  past  friend- 
ships, to  refresh  himself  both  physically  and 
in  the  spirit  with  the  breath  of  his  native  air. 
Whatever  changes  he  may  find  here  are 
chiefly  of  a  superficial  sort.  The  sentiment 
and  the  life  of  our  neighborhood  remain  es- 
sentially unchanged,  even  though  we  pride 
ourselves  on  a  progressive  spirit  which  shows 
clearly  and  proudly  in  many  aspects.  Un- 
changed, indeed,  is  our  feeling  of  respect  and 

[  237  ] 


SPEECHES 

friendship  toward  this  guest  whom  we  still 
count  as  one  of  ourselves. 

It  is  true  that  when  he  departed  from  us 
he  nevertheless  took  with  him  the  spirit  of  the 
community.  There  is,  in  fact,  in  every  com- 
munity its  own  distinctive  life,  its  individual 
manner  of  thought  and  feeling.  One  reared 
within  such  an  atmosphere  is  inevitably  in- 
fluenced by  it.  He  is,  in  very  definite  ways, 
molded  by  his  environment.  Thus,  always, 
there  are  traits  of  character  that  mark  the  gen- 
erality of  residence  in  any  region.  So,  of  our 
guest:  We  may  believe  that  he  has  carried 
with  him  out  into  the  world  something  in  his 
manhood  that  has  the  quality  of  our  life.  We 
dare  to  claim  to  our  credit  some  part  in  the 
success  achieved  by  him  in  an  honorable 
career.  Though  separated  from  us,  he  has 
remained  in  some  measure  a  part  of  us,  so 
that  we  feel  a  degree  of  gratification  and  pride 
in  his  achievement. 

Beyond  this  communal  appreciation  of  our 
guest,  we  feel  toward  him  a  deeper  and  nobler 
emotion,  one  that  is  surely  personal — endur- 

[238] 


WELCOME 

ing  friendship.  It  is  this  feeling  of  friendly 
affection  that  I  now  voice  in  behalf  of  this 
community  toward  him  whom  we  are  here 
met  to  honor. 


[239] 


RESPONSE 

THIS  welcome  from  you  means  much 
to  me.  Ambition  may  send  one 
from  home  to  seek  his  fortune 
among  strangers,  but  affection  is 
always  tugging  at  his  heartstrings  to  bring 
him  back  again.  Somehow,  the  old  things 
and  the  old  friends  have  a  power  that  rests 
unweakened  through  all  the  years.  In  the 
press  of  affairs,  it  may  be  thrust  back  out 
of  consciousness,  its  urge  may  be  resisted,  but 
always  it  remains  a  living  force,  so  that,  when 
the  opportunity  comes,  it  surely  drives  one  to 
return.  Here,  as  I  find  myself  again  with  you 
amid  scenes  so  familiar  and  so  dear,  I  expe- 
rience a  joy  and  a  peace  that  are  new  and  very 
precious.  There  is,  of  course,  sadness — over 
the  passing  on  of  loved  ones,  yet  this  feeling 
does  but  emphasize  and  refine  the  sentiments 

[240] 


RESPONSE 

so  keenly  felt.  To  me,  this  return  is  truly  a 
coming  home.  The  place  itself  seems  won- 
derfully friendly  to  me,  and  the  people  seem 
more  wonderfully  friendly  still.  I  am  grate- 
ful to  Providence  that  has  at  last  brought  me 
home  again.  I  am  grateful  as  well  to  kindly 
friends  and  neighbors  who  make  me  realize 
the  blessed  fact  that  this  is  truly  home. 


[241] 


FAMILY  REUNION 

FAMILY  pride  is  one  of  the  common- 
est of  human  failings;  it  is  one  of  the 
commonest  of  human  virtues.  Some- 
times, as  in  the  case  of  the  Chinese, 
the  worship  of  the  ancestors  is  made  a  religion. 
Over  against  this  there  is  the  instance  of  a 
great  general  who  rose  from  peasant  stock, 
who,  when  twitted  on  his  humble  origin  by 
some  sprig  of  nobility  boasting  a  long  line  of 
titled  ancestors,  declared  grimly: 
"I  myself  am  the  ancestor." 
Family  pride  is  a  vice  when  the  pride  is 
in  vicious  things.  There  have  been  families 
that  boasted  of  a  frightful  temper;  others 
that  bragged  of  being  spendthrifts;  and  so 
on.  Examples  are  not  far  to  seek  in  any  com- 
munity. Often,  heredity  has  little  if  anything 
to  do  with  the  curse  of  drinking  or  gambling 

[242] 


FAMILY  REUNION 

or  loose  living  of  any  sort.  Instead,  the  evil 
is  more  likely  to  be  the  product  of  example 
along  with  the  powerful  suggestions  from 
family  tradition. 

Family  pride  is  a  virtue  when  it  inspires 
virtue.  When  one  knows  that  he  is  born  of 
good  stock,  he  has  the  right  to  a  feeling  of 
self-respect  due  to  just  that  single  fact.  He 
may  properly  congratulate  himself  on  having 
as  forebears  men  and  women  of  a  wholesome 
sort,  possessed  of  both  intelligence,  industry 
and  integrity.  Whatever  may  be  the  disputes 
of  the  learned  as  to  the  extent  of  the  influence 
of  heredity  on  the  human  mind  and  character, 
we  know  for  a  certainty  that  qualities  are 
definitely  transmitted  in  families,  that  ability 
and  merit  run  with  the  blood  just  as  surely  as 
do  form  and  features  for  the  body.  And  here, 
again,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  vices,  the  vir- 
tues of  a  family  are  nourished  and  strength- 
ened and  made  effective  by  constant  sugges- 
tion from  the  family  tradition.  The  family 
pride  in  its  worth  becomes  itself  a  spur  to 
emulation,  an  incentive  to  equal,  even  to  sur- 

[243] 


SPEECHES 

pass,  in  his  own  person,  the  virtues  of  those 
from  whom  he  has  derived  his  being. 

Nevertheless,  at  this  point,  it  is  needful  for 
us  to  note  that  family  pride  becomes  a  peril 
to  the  individual  character  when  it  induces 
self-complacency  without  any  stimulus  toward 
personal  activity.  Such  pride  becomes  a  curse 
to  one  who  esteems  himself  great  or  worthy 
merely  because  his  ancestors  were  great  or 
worthy.  Such  a  person  is  a  parasite  for  whose 
existence  there  is  no  excuse.  Family  pride, 
if  it  is  to  be  tolerated,  must  be  an  energizing 
force,  by  which  one  is  compelled  to  achieve 
according  to  the  utmost  of  his  powers.  He 
must  vindicate  by  his  own  worth  his  right  to 
pride  in  a  worthy  ancestor.  Otherwise,  their 
worthiness  must  become  his  shame. 

For  ourselves,  we  have  reason  doubly  to  re- 
joice. Our  family  in  the  past  has  accom- 
plished much  to  make  it  respected  and  distin- 
guished among  men,  and  those  of  this  genera- 
tion have  not  been  found  wanting.  On  the 
contrary,  our  men  and  women  of  to-day  in 
their  various  fields  of  activity  are  demonstrat- 

[244] 


FAMILY  REUNION 

ing  anew  those  sterling  qualities  of  our  race 
that  have  made  it  honorable  in  the  past. 

All  honor  to  our  tribe!  And  may  we  and 
those  to  follow  us  be  worthy!  May  our  deeds 
and  lives  add  to  its  renown! 

Hail  to  the  name  of ! 


[245] 


COMMEXCEMEXT 

THERE  is  always  a  profound  inter- 
est that  attaches  to  this  occasion. 
Commencement  day,  whether  of 
school  or  college,  is  a  milepost 
Aat  marks  a  definite  stage  of  the  journey 
through  life.  It  indicates  the  conclusion  of  a 
certain  cycle  in  the  individual  existence  and 
the  beginning  of  another  cycle.  It  denotes 
the  ending  of  a  course  of  preparation  and  the 
readiness  for  undertaking  new  activities.  It 
is  especially  a  time  for  triumphant  anticipa- 
tions. Study  and  training  are  by  no  means 
always  pleasant  They  are  sometimes  tedious 
and  toilsome.     But  as  a  whole,  the  years  of  • 

making  ready  are  pleasant  and  the  pleasure 
that  belongs  to  them  is  made  keen  by  the  spirit 
of  youth.  That  the  period  of  learning  is  for 
die  most  part  agreeable  is  fortunate  indeed, 

[246] 


COMMENCEMENT 

since  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  well- 
being  of  the  individual.  The  learning  thus 
acquired  is  of  exceeding  value.  We  of  to-day, 
with  our  familiarity,  as  to  matters  of  educa- 
tion, are  likely  to  fail  somewhat  in  appreciat- 
ing how  great  this  boon  is.  In  past  ages, 
learning  was  limited  to  the  very  few,  and  even 
then  was  meager  and  inaccurate  almost  be- 
yond our  power  of  conception.  Moreover, 
learning  is  by  no  means  broadcast  throughout 
the  world  to-day.  Only  comparatively  a  small 
number  of  the  nations  give  universal  school- 
ing to  their  citizens.  I  speak  of  these  things 
in  the  hope  of  arousing  in  you  a  real  gratitude 
toward  that  Providence  which  has  set  you  in 
a  time  and  place  of  so  great  privileges.  Some- 
times, doubtless,  you  have  felt  rebellious 
against  the  monotony  of  routine  tasks.  But 
such  feeling  was  the  mood  of  a  moment,  a  fit- 
ting annoyance.  Over  against  it  you  have  the 
proud  consciousness  of  an  educated  intelli- 
gence. You  have  benefited  by  a  blessing  that 
is  the  very  crown  of  our  civilization.  It  is  for 
you  to  prove  your  aopreciation  of  that  bless- 

[247] 


SPEECHES 

ing  by  the  use  you  shall  make  of  it  in  the  days 
to  come.  It  is  my  hope  for  each  of  you  that 
in  the  living  of  your  lives  you  may  justify  and 
realize  the  happy  anticipations  that  make  glad 
this  hour. 


[248] 


BIRTHDAY 

OUR  forefathers  had  a  pleasant  cus- 
tom of  laying  down  a  special  bin 
of  wine  when  an  heir  was  born,  so 
that  the  time-mellowed  beverage 
should  be  ready  for  the  drinking  of  his  health 
on  his  coming  of  age.  While  still  an  infant, 
he  might  be  nominated  for  membership  in  a 
club  where  the  waiting  list  was  long,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  sure  of  its  privileges  on  at- 
taining his  majority.  In  the  case  of  royalty 
the  queens  giving  birth  to  a  son  as  heir  to  the 
throne  has  always  been  an  occasion  for  a 
nation-wide  festival.  What  with  Volstead, 
the  unpopularity  of  royalty  and  our  own  sta- 
tion in  life,  the  first  birthday  fails  to  stir  the 
country  as  a  whole  to  rejoicing.  Nevertheless 
though  without  embellishments,  a  birthday  of 
itself  is  the  most  important  thing  that  can  hap- 
pen to  anyone.    So  far  as  our  limited  knowl- 

[249] 


SPEECHES 

edge  goes  it  is  the  beginning  of  life,  and  life 
is  the  greatest  of  possessions,  that  possession 
on  which  all  else  is  conditioned. 

As  it  is  the  chief  boon,  so  life  is  also  the 
chief  mystery.  None,  not  even  the  wisest, 
knows  aught  of  its  ultimate  sorts.  Haeckel 
declared  that  the  secret  of  life  must  forever 
elude  the  searching  of  science.  We  may  learn 
much  of  physics  and  of  chemistry  and  of  the 
constitution  of  matter,  but  we  cannot  penetrate 
beyond  the  veil.  Nor  need  we.  It  is  enough 
for  us  that  this  treasure  is  bestowed  upon  us, 
that  to  us  is  given  the  use  of  it  for  the  develop- 
ment of  ourselves,  for  the  growth  of  charac- 
ter. Along  with  the  mysterious  gift,  there 
comes  to  us  as  well  a  companion  mystery,  the 
conscience,  which,  from  its  high  place  within 
the  soul,  seeks  to  guide  toward  righteousness 
the  life  of  each  of  us. 

As  one  comes  to  maturity,  the  anniversary 
of  birth  is  likely  to  prove  a  day  for  self-reck- 
oning. As  one  year  of  life  ends,  and  another 
begins,  it  is  natural  to  review  the  immediate 
past,  perhaps,  too,  the  years  more  remote,  to 

[250] 


BIRTHDAY 

Study  them  in  an  effort  to  understand  wherein 
the  life  has  been  right,  wherein  it  has  been 
wrong,  and,  along  with  this,  to  resolve  for  the 
future  toward  betterment. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  life  should  be  all 
happiness.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  sure  that 
man  must  struggle  in  order  to  grow  strong, 
and  this  is  true  not  merely  as  to  the  physical 
life,  but  in  even  greater  measure  as  to  the  mind 
and  the  spirit.  The  poet  has  rightly  said, 
"Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity."  Nobility 
of  character  is  born  of  suffering.  The  test  of 
greatness  is  its  strength  to  overcome  the  evil 
of  circumstances.  It  is  just  here  that  we 
should  be  glad  that  destiny  has  given  us  a  re- 
ligion of  hope.  We  are  not  promised  final 
annihilation,  as  are  the  Buddhists,  whose  con- 
ditions of  life  were  so  hard  that  to  be  done 
with  living  seemed  the  supreme  blessing.  We 
are  born  to  a  land  and  an  age  that  offers  us  full- 
ness of  life  here,  and  to  a  religion  that  prom- 
ises us  something  infinitely  better  for  the  life 
to  come. 

Mrs.  Eddy  is  on  record  in  disapprobation  of 

[251] 


SPEECHES 

all  anniversaries.  She  condemns  them  as  en- 
couraging the  idea  that  there  is  a  reality  to 
material  things.  I  am  inclined  to  be  more 
lenient.  But  the  anniversary,  more  especially 
the  birthday,  should  never  be  a  time  for 
mourning  over  w^hat  is  past  and  done.  In- 
stead, it  should  be  made  a  new  starting  place 
for  the  keenest  appreciation  of  life,  for  the 
winning  of  the  best  that  life  has  to  give,  and 
for  a  clearer  consciousness  as  to  just  what  life 
means,  both  in  this  world  and  the  world  to 
come.  None  of  us  is  responsible  for  his  first 
birthday.  But  each  of  us  is  responsible  for 
the  use  he  makes  of  the  gift  thus  bestowed 
upon  him. 


[252] 


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